


Meaning Nothing and Everything

by AshleysWrittenWords



Series: Tales from the Royal Close Protection Service (RCPS) [4]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Angst, Angst and Romance, F/M, Forbidden Love, Friends to Lovers, Modern AU, Modern Royalty, NSFW, Not Actually Unrequited Love, One Night Stands, One-Sided Attraction, Queen!Zelda, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Star-crossed, bodyguard!link, i guess lol, link is stressed because zelda is stressed, not really - Freeform, only one bed trope, slow burn build up, soft smut, these tags are so spicy, this entire series is selfish indulgence, time continuity is hard, we can probably assume both of them are around 30, zelda is stressed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:27:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27475021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshleysWrittenWords/pseuds/AshleysWrittenWords
Summary: Queen Zelda lived a life that she had always took in strides. She was fluent in six languages, an expert in anthropology and diplomacy, and more media savvy than Hyrule's most infamous celebrities. However time is a cruel mistress and the falling dominos of her reign become closer to crushing weights. Even with the loyalty of her lead bodyguard by her side, not even he can stop a wayward prince from asking for her hand in front of the country's most illustrious politicians.After all, splitting the crown meant half the weight.(Can be read alone, but the works prior give insights to their chemistry)
Relationships: Link & Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Series: Tales from the Royal Close Protection Service (RCPS) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767043
Comments: 48
Kudos: 161





	1. The Consequences of Sweatpants and Slippers

It started with her most dreadful day of the year.

“My Queen! Your signature is required for the balloons.”

She feigned a polite smile.

“Your Majesty, please consider these final touches. It’s imperative that the kitchen runs infallibly.”

“Queen Zelda, the press needs a statement regarding-”

Her cheeks held a pain only people who have been faking smiles all day could own. Hands massaged her jaw in a way that said, “Rest now, it will surely be worse tomorrow.” With the weight of her head sinking down heavier onto her hands, the base of her elbows grew sore from biting into the mahogany desk.

Vaguely she could hear Impa rattling off the press releases for this evening and tomorrow morning, but her eyes kept drawing to the corner of the room – continuously finding it empty. The idea of pulling off a disappearing act sounded more and more handsome by the hour, although her fingers found the weighted pen waiting idly by her side and scribbled down shorthanded notes.

Impa was smiling in that motherly way of hers as she set down a copy of papers and a tumbler of hot tea. “If any of my words found their way to you, then we are better off tomorrow than I thought.”

“What a relief.”

The woman bid her goodnight and left the door open as she spoke hushed words to someone outside. They didn’t reach the queen and she didn’t care. The papers towering on her desk could may as well be an assassination attempt at this point. Without thinking, she grabbed the tumbler and took a sip of the tea inside, promptly burning her tongue. A sound that was between a hiss and a curse cut through.

“Are you alright, Your Majesty?” a voice came from the head of the room, leaving her to look up with panic.

Much to her relief, it wasn’t another advisor nor Impa. Link stood at the door and closed it with hesitation. She nodded at his concern, held a hand to her mouth and held up the tumbler with the other for emphasis. “Yes, thank you,” she finally said, albeit numbly.

Zelda sank evermore into her hands and poured over the documents for some sense of organization. Daylight had long died in Castle Town, but that did not stop the nightlife that followed. Hylians found any excuse to party and the eve of their queen’s birthday was far from an exception. There was plenty of sounds outside that drew her away from focusing.

“It’s just one thing after another today, isn’t it?” she murmured to herself, looking up at her bodyguard who was taking turns about the room. He hummed in agreement as he looked at the trinkets he has seen a thousand times before. Relenting to her distractions, she looked from her pile of papers, “How was the security briefing? I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.”

Tiredness had sunk into her words and along with it her body to the chair. It caught his attention. She could pretend everything was fine, that the late hours these last two weeks weren’t affecting her. It was something she was good at, but even her best fronts were saw through by him. Link pulled away from a picture from a charity event a year ago and caught his worn old notebook between the crook of his arm and his elbow. Inside it were her own plans for the week alongside his, but he rarely deviated from her own.

He shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his gray dress pants. “It went smoothly. Everything is accounted for,” he offered a weak smile, “Most of it technicalities you shouldn’t need to worry about.”

It made her roll her eyes. They both knew it was a five-hour meeting discussing all possible security threats to herself and any of the nobility. He headed it himself, going over all sectors of defense and assuring protocols were being adhered to. As he stepped closer, she could see the circles under his eyes had darkened.

Zelda felt guilty.

“Have you considered my offer for the Gala?” she questioned, wondering if that suit were one she’s seen before. Drawing in the warmth of her tumbler and her knees into the seat, the woman attempted to look innocent.

He pursed his lips, looking from her to the window behind her. “Yes, and my answer is the same,” he paused on her curled form. Sleep deprivation surely did not stifle the shocking blue of his eyes. Somehow without shame, it made her want him to look at her more. He took another step across the room, fingers trailing the surface of her desk as he peered over, “Are those sweatpants?”

Like a gunshot, she dropped her legs from the chair and a flush crept up her neck, “ _Tell no one!_ ”

Intrigue forced his lips to quirk upward as he rounded the desk, “Did you stuff them in your briefcase? What would Lady Impa think?”

“Yes, and she’ll never have to think because she won’t know,” she said indignantly up at him, “I’m in this damned office all day. It makes no difference!” Although, changing under the desk midday was a bit of a feat.

He snorted and she sat straighter, bracing the side of the chair to speak demandingly. “What if I double your pay? Come on, Link. I’m asking you _not_ to come to work! Daruk is more than capable.”

At this, the man grasped the back of her chair and smiled lazily down at her, “What kind of lousy bodyguard isn’t there during his charge’s busiest days in public? Not to mention being a horrible friend for missing your birthday.”

It didn’t matter how valid his points were, she glowered at the man. “You look exhausted.”

“And you,” he pulled the chair out from underneath the desk despite her protests, “look like you’re about to fall asleep.”

“I’m fine!”

“You almost started crying because you burned your tongue.”

“But-!”

Link reached around her for her tumbler and briefcase, stopping only to look her in the eyes, “Zelda, please. For your own wellbeing.” His face was stern and made her look away. Zelda stiffly nodded and let him help her out of her seat. Her legs were stiff from hours of sitting, but habit took hold when he waited for her to take the lead out of the royal office. The queen’s guard rarely ever said her name, even more so in such a plain voice. As they began the long walk to the east wing, she turned slightly.

“Would you stay home if I threw in-”

“No,” he said before remembering where they were and amended with a curt, “Your Grace.”

She knew he was only worried, but that didn’t stop her from drawing her arms to her chest and feeling like a fool for arguing. “You know,” she started, “I wish you’d say my name more.”

He did his habitual scan of the halls and came to her with a look of confusion, “What do you mean?”

Their usual walk of comfortable silence felt tainted.

“You only say it like that when you want me to do something,” Zelda muttered, the words were louder in the twenty-foot tall hallways of Hyrule Castle. She felt as if she knew him quite well. He was everything that excluded selfishness, a trait too common in the crowds she was assorted with. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep that made the impossible ideas in her head feel more realistic. She covered her frown with a light cough into her sleeve.

Link didn’t respond right away. He fell in behind her steps as he usually did and it only churned the anxiety in her stomach. Nothing but one thing could go wrong tomorrow. The queen had three speeches prepared and the entire guest list in her back pocket.

“You’re not telling me something, are you?” he said it more like a statement than a question. They were coming up on her quarters now. Zelda thought about going through those doors and leaving him without his answers. Instead, she stopped and turned to find him carefully watching her.

“I have reason… to believe that Prince Facad will propose at the Gala,” the words spoken aloud made her nauseous. The only other person who had an inkling of what was going on was Impa, who was already writing up press statements for every possible scenario. Lady Midna had called her last night to warn her and Zelda knew her sources were credible.

Link was carefully trying to read her. They’ve had many conversations about the man, mostly about his annoying habit of letting the media know his whereabouts whenever he visited the castle. He had proposed before in private and every time she let him down gently. But he was also amongst her most viable suitors and a marriage like that would be very strategic for Hyrule.

“Are you ready for something like that?” his voice was calm, which differed greatly to her amassed concerns. Link watched her hand tighten around the other.

“It’s not the most ideal birthday present,” Zelda tried to laugh.

He took her hand in his to stop it from prying the other off her wrist. The days felt like they were getting longer and summer brought along its own complications. They both knew that if she did get married there was no telling how different things would be. Zelda didn’t like the thought of Link leaving her side and she entertained the thought that he felt the same.

She stared down at their shoes, finding him closer than she previously realized. Zelda wore fuzzy black slippers and he wore dark leather oxfords.

He cracked into a smile. “How did I miss those?”

“I have a charming disposition,” she jested, putting her hand on the door handle. “It’s distracting.”

“You do,” Link said in a tone that drew her in all over again. “Makes it rather difficult to do my job.”

She smiled and felt her cheeks grow warm. Her grasp on the handle melting when he didn’t move away.

“You deserve to be happy,” he suddenly asserted, turning her hand over in his.

She expected him to pull away and leave her with a goodnight, but he didn’t. They stood together and she didn’t want to leave quite yet. The cowlicks of his hair had grown unkept with his busy schedule and she found that the hint of messiness was quite endearing on someone always so prim.

“I want you to be happy, Zelda,” Link’s grasp on her tightened just so she would notice. His eyes were gentle and genuine as he looked at her. If she weren’t what she was born into, she would let herself fall into that blue color. If that were true, she would give into whatever she was feeling right now and ask him to run away with her. If that were right, she would let him make her happy.

But it wasn’t.

Even so, she let him pull her into a hug. His arms encircled her and she met the collar of his gray jacket. He smelled like the musky scent of his cologne and something that was distinctly Link. She wondered if his whole apartment smelled like this or if there was anyone waiting for him. “Thank you,” she muttered against him, “but whatever decision I make won’t be for myself.”

At that, his arms tightened around her and she wondered if she asked him to hold her like this every night he would do it. One night would be fine, she thought. One night would mean the world. The thought made her chest tighten and her lip to tremble in a way a queen’s lip should never. Zelda bit down on her lip and sniffed, burying her head deeper into his chest.

“I’m sorry I’m keeping you up,” she said, pulling away despite her screaming want. This was a bad idea. A horrible, atrocious, ill-dreamed idea.

“Don’t be.” Blue eyes. All she could see was blue and the way he held her in place and the way the shadows were cast over his face. He brushed a tear from her cheek. His hands were then on her shoulder blades and she left his gaze for his lips which made her pause. Anxiety welled in her chest, burning a little brighter when she realized where his stare drifted down to.

Hyrule’s matriarch was upheld for being a woman of science, philosophy, and reason. The woman studied extensively in several advanced fields of academia while juggling all the training that came with being the crown princess. But this? She couldn’t make sense of it. Link was already so close and when she leaned onto the tips of her slippers, he met her halfway.

Unlike the thrumming in her chest, the kiss was soft and gentle. A wicking flame that could melt any waxy doubt that has built up in her heart. It rivaled all those dangerous fantasies she has had about him. His hand touched her cheek before disappearing in her hair, letting him tilt her head. He kissed her in the same way he did most things; with caution and assuredness. There was a certain tenacity under his fingertips that made her wonder.

Did he want this as much as she did? For how long?

His lips moved against her and his hand found her shoulder. He breathed her in and her heart pounded in her chest. A couple long moments went by until Link pulled away suddenly, wide eyed and confounded.

Zelda’s lips stumbled in between an apology and a goodnight as she fumbled for the door. Not even bothering to grab her suitcase, she closed it behind her.


	2. Putting Out a Fire Should Start with the Match

Link Forester was a thoughtful man.

He grew up as a quiet child, speaking only when spoken to. When he did, he was to the point and diligent to get each word right. The rest was neatly folded and tucked to the back of his mind where he would unpack when he was alone with the stars as his company.

“A perfect child.”

Those were the words of his homeroom teacher from primary school. That was, of course, in part because the small military town he grew up in knew his father raised his hand a little too high when his son strayed from his expectations and even the strictest of schoolteachers knew when to embellish. Academically, he flourished, especially with mathematics and science. Everything had its place there; rules to follow. Predictability became a friend and a weapon.

English and creative writing were a tricker business to deal with. Grammar wasn’t a problem, but when words combined with commas led to connecting ideas that turned to stories – well, it wasn’t his strong suit. Eventually when his father was shipped out again and he left for boarding school, Link found that people liked their own thoughts repeated back to them in different words. By his middle years, he developed an eye for unravelling people. In his good marks he developed great relationships with his teachers. The young boy had cultivated a fine reputation that convinced his peers he would go on to do great things

The quietness of his childhood earned him the intelligent observance of a young man. His connections led him to excel throughout his higher education, both making his father proud by following in the family’s footsteps of serving the crown and earning a degree in foreign affairs. That was also during the time of Arcadian and Labrynnian skirmishes. Hyrule had a small stake in safeguarding their assets over the border and naturally troops were sent to Labrynna to honor their allyship.

Link spent two tours at the border of Arcadia. Those series of events led him to a cushy government job in the defense sector with a few more shiny metals that would be left at his father’s house underneath his childhood bed. When questioned, the reply rarely deviated from: “Nothing to write home about.” Then he would smile and let any conversation leading to the subject fall flat. The details are only known by his best friend, Daruk Vulcan, his superiors, and the Queen – who was assigned to him not long after Rusl retired.

Even after everything, there was a purposeful air about him. Each action he took was diligent to a tee. He remained observant and a man who understood the power of words, which could only strengthened when he found out he had a half-sister left to his care after his estranged mother died.

But thoughtful he was. He took care of everyone on his staff to the best of his abilities. Their job was to mitigate any danger that had the possibility of affecting the queen. From dirty bombs to food poisoning, if anything were to slip from their capable fingers then Link was the last resort. The other part of his job was to stand by her side and keep her from bodily harm, which from an outward perspective wasn’t a difficult role as Hyrule was in a long streak of peacetime and the country hadn’t been in direct conflict in generations. Really, the worst harm to come her way from a week of bad press.

So, why was it that he couldn’t focus?

Link marveled at the heat of the studio lights and occasionally looked at the sound board beside him. A technician was listening carefully to his headset and flipped a switch every so often. By the shut double doors was a digital clock.

7:57 blinked mockingly back at him.

“-thank you all for the well-wishes today-”

His eyes flickered up, adjusting from the dark room to the set. She is standing there with that smile. The one that made him think of magazine covers at grocery store check-outs. He wondered if she actually used those whitening strips he bought for her a week ago.

No, look away. Focus. The weight of his shoulders felt heavier this morning. His phone burned silence into his pocket and despite his inching fingers, he knew that the only thing to greet him would be an empty lock screen just like it had afforded him last night.

Last night? Images of it drew to the corners of his imagination. Green eyes with a small, relaxed smile that favored asymmetry. The clock was still blinking beside a glowing sign that signaled that they were on air.

7:57, still.

It occurred to Link that he should have worn those shoes with the gel inserts but the reminder that he might actually need them made him feel older than he was and they weren’t remotely as shiny. Gods, why was this taking so long? Revali was sure to be impatient to review air space surveillance by now and Link had to mentally check himself before going into any meeting with that Rito.

Her hair was down and pulled back neatly where, he guessed, those long locks formed soft spiraling curls. Divine right didn’t sound all that ridiculous anymore.

This morning, her makeup artists took care to add more concealer under her eyes and it was a knee jerk reaction to scold her for staying up too late again, but he held it in – neatly packing it away as if he had just met her all over again. Before he knew the way she…

He grimaced, ending the short-lived memory of her breath on his neck and forced that away as well.

The smile never reached her eyes on television. The queen was talking about the gala tonight and suddenly Link straightened at the realization. He didn’t forget – Link doesn’t forget anything – but the slight round in his spine was gone in an instant and his mind made room for only one crisp thought: Fuck.

7:58.

His phone vibrated and he nearly ripped a hole in his slacks to find distraction.

**_Aryll_ **

_She looks very nice today. Bet you’re regretting that I didn’t tape this for you._

A second later a picture of their flatscreen popped up below her text. It was a grainy distortion of Zelda with news network headlines running underneath. Link was midway into a rant of how she should be at school already before he clued into the fact that it was a federal holiday.

So, instead, he buried his pride and pressed his thumb on the backspace key then steeled himself to face Aryll’s frustration from leaving her on read.

Before he realized it, the big studio lights flipped off and the surrounding fluorescents audibly clicked on. The people in the room moved as a well-oiled machine. Some moved set pieces and others fiddled with equipment; not that he could ever draw his focus completely to them. The queen mumbled to the stagehand who had given her bottled water. Link watched her roll her shoulders with a look of soreness on her face – seeming so much more exhausted than just a minute ago.

Like clockwork, Link found himself beside her after she carefully descended the small set of stairs. Zelda struggled with the snugness of her suit jacket. In the middle of shrugging it off, she turned slightly in his direction and promptly startled once she caught sight of him.

“ _Hylia_ ,” she cursed under her breath, “Would it kill you to be a little louder?”

A snarky response sat on his tongue but before it made it to his lips, he paused. Link could smell the perfume she wore. It was the perfect imitation of a field of daisies which made everything in his world a little more difficult. Then, he saw that her eyes wouldn’t quite rise to meet his and _that_ made speaking much more complicated.

Link’s mind blanked and the moment passed.

“My apologies.”

She pressed her lips into a fine line, pulled her jacket into her chest. Link wished he didn’t notice the way her cheek indented, signifying some turmoil between her eyes. A stagehand pressed papers into his hands and told him to pass them along to Impa. The woman was rattling on about ratings but he hardly heard her because Zelda had half turned away to hide the wrinkle in her brow.

Her disappointment was as clear as day.

Soon her heels were clicking against the ground and he followed mechanically. It was muscle memory. They were scaling a short set of stairs where a pair of guards stood at the top checking identifications. It was a smaller entrance to the main wing of the castle, one of many checkpoints that were established to maintain who was and wasn’t meant to be within the castle.

Of those men was a Goron, one that Link immediately recognized as Daruk’s nephew, who quickly took note of Her Majesty and made room for her to bound up the steps. He said something as she passed with a nervous gaze. Zelda laughed, genuine because it was full-bodied and lacked its usual airiness. Link let out a breath as he noticed her shoulders finally loosen.

“An important day, sir,” Yunobo’s voice wavered as he walked by.

Link flashed his badge. There was a time before his promotion when basic security procedures were so relaxed that they’d allow any familiar face through. Hell, when it came down to enforcing standard protocol Link was met with a fair amount of pushback. This was about safeguarding a government building, not bouncing at a club on Kohga’s Street.

“A _long_ day,” Link said with a tired smile that was more honest than jest. “Keep it up. Are you assigned to the Gala tonight?”

“Ah, th-thank you sir. No sir. Uncle has assigned me to babysitting my cousins instead.”

They shared an amicable nod before parting ways.

Right when Link was caught up in the fact that he was envious of Yunobo’s nightly plans, he found the eye of the queen as she turned away from the window to the garden. The morning sun made her squint.

Whatever was turning in his head froze and like that he could hardly remember what was usually on his mind at this time of day. Suddenly it occurred to him that he might have done something wrong. Her lips pressed together again. The hint of a wrinkle returning.

“What is the time?”

Link blanched, “Erm, what?”

“The time. My phone died. I forgot to charge it last night.” The sentence was followed by a set of irritable mumblings. He dug through his pants pocket probably too greedily and told her.

“Malon should be here soon with your gown,” he said assured, ignoring the three missed calls from Revali and another five texts from Aryll. “You’re usually excited about this part.”

She hummed, mutely agreeing yet seeming just as apathetic as before. Link watched her stare at the tiles on the floor. Nothing about her mannerisms suggests she was even bothered by what had happened… but it _had_ happened, right? There’s a reason she hasn’t quite met his eye and the memory of the way she had looked at him was all too real. Perhaps Zelda would like him to forget.

An odd sensation of his heart shifting in his chest brought him back to reality.

Link cleared his throat and motioned towards the hallway. “After you, Your Majesty.”

Zelda blinked to attention, taking her leave which signified him to follow four paces behind. Her eyes grew brighter as she met both people in her service and those from parliament. Birthday wishes were expressed and her response was that classic smile. The path to her formal office took a slight detour through an older, less renovated, end of the castle. It was her typical method of stalling that wasn’t as obvious to interpret.

“My father is a history snob,” she had once recounted, “It isn’t unthinkable that I might have inherited the trait.”

It was here that she meandered slowly and took in her surroundings. Castle life wasn’t as crowded in this wing, he could see that her head mirrored it. But with her pace, there was no distraction. Memories with no strap to tie them down. Nothing kept them anchored when all he could do was stare at her back. Her red jacket was in her arms still, leaving her shoulders exposed before meeting the white blouse she wore.

There would be a proposal tonight. Link could try to delude himself into pretending there wouldn’t be, but Midna was rarely wrong. On the contrary, she was _never_ wrong. Zelda was queen in every sense of the word yet even she couldn’t fathom the well-networked connections of her cousin. Not only was she a prolific socialite, she thrived on the attention far past what paparazzi could afford.

She had served Queen Zelda well as a friend. Thwarting any negativity the media conjured for a new scandal surrounding the Twili family.

“Bred for it,” Midna had insisted during a drunken brunch. Zelda had slunk to the bathroom to hide her own tipsiness from him. “Everything at this level comes down to fate, destiny, _whatever_. But you can’t just put anyone in places like ours,” she cocked in eyebrow, “Do you think a person like Zelda was born simply by chance?”

Of course not. If they had asked him that three days into the job, there may be a chance at a different answer, but now?

Zelda was put up to the task to hold the weight of the world on her shoulders. She was able to have three different conversations at once while maintaining an impeccable air of importance. It was nothing short of impressive. Other than routine vacations, every hour of everyday was dedicated to her position.

Very few people in her inner circle could see the Zelda he had likened to. It was something that fell into his lap at chance. This was why he went through 8 months of background checks.

Maybe that was why her words had gotten under his skin so easily the night prior. For all of Zelda’s attempts to hide the fact, he knew she had rom-com marathons on her sick days and her bookshelves were littered with fantasy romances. She was the very definition of a hopeless romantic. So much that it was almost laughable to think that she would _marry_ out of duty.

And the dejection in her voice kept him awake. This was something that had been on her mind far beyond any humorous conversation surrounding the prince. She had been seriously considering marrying him and had kept that privy from Link for some time.

Again, his stomach turned at the idea and all he could think about were her hands on him. Her _lips_ on him and every distasteful thought he had packed away over the years.

Link frowned at her back. He frowned with the intention of letting all his frustration go right here and hope it didn’t resurface ever again. They were alone in this end of the castle, he could reach her arm and tell her that she really didn’t have to – hell, they weren’t in the dark ages anymore! Was she even approaching this rationally?

Right when the idea itched his fingers to flex, the shrill ring of her cellphone immobilized him.

“Hey, Mid,” she said into it, scrutinizing the paint on her nails. Midna’s shrill voice responded with fervent monologues that kept Zelda constantly nodding. “Can we, um,” her shoulders squared, “shelve that conversation for now? No – goddesses, let me respond – I’m not in a meeting but seriously… It’s a gala for my birthday, not a funeral.”

Then, she snorted and turned to check the hallways. She was focused heavily on her phone call, but her eyes lingered on Link while maintaining a slanted smile.

“Is that so?” she said in a sing-song voice. Then something shifted, her bottom lip caught between her teeth and her eyes went to his shoes. Midna wasn’t so audible anymore. “…I know. Don’t be obtuse, nobody is forcing my hand.”

The arm holding her jacket shifted so her hand gripped the opposite elbow.

“We’ve discussed this. I don’t wish to repeat myself, please,” she waited for a moment, “I love you too. I’ll see you tonight.”

Zelda closed her eyes and breathed out a huffed sigh. When she stuffed her phone into her pocket and murmured an apology, any motivation to confront her was long gone.

* * *

Queen Zelda of Hyrule had gotten a mere three hours of sleep. When she did rouse from slumber, it was hard to shake off the feeling of arms around her middle. Her heart dropped to her feet when her only partner was a memory foam pillow that mocked her with the sight of a gross drool stain. Then, of course, her morning was promptly ruined by the remembrance of her actions the night before.

It was 5:30 am on the day of her 29th birthday.

An hour later a team came and left to make her ready for television, but she knew even the luxury color corrector couldn’t hide everything. Her phone had been buzzing since midnight, full of half-baked happy birthday wishes from parliamentary members and abroad politicians. Sometimes she’d recognize a more personal name, like Malon, who would write ridiculously long texts filled with some memories Zelda never wanted to recall. Other than the voicemail from Mother and Father, all of them were put to the side because there was no way she could answer anything with good faith.

Her brain was an air fryer that sucked all the intelligence from every passing thought. At least today was mostly memorization. First a televised announcement and then she could have a break until the Gala – which would only be a few hours before Malon insists she start getting ready.

When she stepped out of her bedroom, she half-expected him not to be there. Which was childish because she was his job, but he owed her nothing with what she did.

Link met her as if nothing at all happened.

“Happy birthday, Zelda,” he had said and handed her a large travel mug of jasmine tea. Of course he’d use her name in that way – as if it’d force her to have happy birthday when she wouldn’t even dare to be so optimistic. But she didn’t answer like that at all. Like a gaping fish, she tried several times to sputter out a coherent “thank you”.

They moved in silence. He was paces behind her. There were people around and they didn’t share a word by the time she reached the studio.

Her eyes burned and while her makeup artist very politely scolded her for not sleeping, she knew it wasn’t due to her tiredness that her eyes were reddening. The short interaction could have easily spurred the same complaint from her bodyguard, less polite and more jabbing. But he had already left her side, out of the way and plenty of distance away from her.

He hated her for what she did. He must and she can’t bear blaming him for it.

The glaring cameras and the studio light did much to take her mind off of him. She was rattling off of a script from a week ago, thanking more people for birthday wishes. In the back of her head, she wondered how many stuffy ambassadors will send gift baskets instead of donating to the long list of charities she provided last month – although it would be convenient if one had those cute little whiskey bottles, the ones that would fit perfectly in a dress pocket.

She wondered if anyone would notice if she were to pull something so Midna-like. Hopefully doing that will make her feel less like a schoolgirl crushing on an upperclassman.

What tone was the earlier “happy birthday” in? Was it more of a I’m-Incredibly-Uncomfortable-Being-Around-You “happy birthday”? Easily closer to the classic I-Regret-Ever-Applying-To-This-Job “happy birthday”.

She hoped it was an entirely different one. Something with the sentiment that he was willing to forgive her delinquency.

It was then that the lights flipped off and her smile dropped just as quick. These days were always exponentially more draining than the others. Father had loved celebrating Mother’s birthday and that may have been why the Gala was so important during Zelda’s reign. Now Zelda held an appreciation for his love for her mother, it was the type of sappy romance that made her grossed out as a little girl.

Her mother was an important figure in both their lives. It was no wonder his devotion to her was enough to lead him to abdicate.

Blond hair was caught in her peripheral and the close presence made her startle.

“ _Hylia_ ,” Zelda gasped, “Would it kill you to be a little louder?”

Her heart was pounding under her blouse. It was the first time they were afforded some sort of privacy since this morning. Those that were working for the Public Affairs Network flew around them in a busy frenzy to keep up with schedule; far too occupied to be concerned with a single exchange.

Link looked nice today, not that it was a surprise. He always looked ready for anything and it was admirable; Zelda had never felt that way when taking on the day. Sure, she planned everything down to the minute but had she ever felt undoubtedly ready to take on the world? Absolutely not, if anything she was on borrowed time. Her head of security was the exact opposite, taking everything into account and giving nothing away.

Not once had he seemed to doubt himself. Except for that time Zelda had shortly lost him in a theme park. The crowds were thick and it wasn’t like it was on purpose, he had been wearing such plain clothes that she ended up walking with a complete stranger for ten minutes until finally noticing that the middle-aged man was certainly not her bodyguard in disguise.

Like a lost child, she had sat on a bench for a short while until he spotted her. It was the first time she saw that façade so ruined by stress.

“My apologies,” he said, so plainly and mechanically that she had doubted it was Link she was facing.

But it was.

Her jaw set and all the stars in her head realigned to the simple fact that she _kissed her bodyguard_. This was the result. An entire friendship ruined. Not just any friendship, but a friendship that was several years in the making. It was the kind of friendship that didn’t need a calendar to remember a birthday. It wasn’t her job to know how he liked his coffee, but she knew it anyway. (Normally black unless it was this little hole-in-the-wall coffee shop in the inner city where he’d get the most sugary, adrenaline-pumping espresso coffee known to mankind).

Her nail tapped on her phone. It was refusing to turn on despite her finger mashing harshly into the screen. Zelda breezed by security and exchanged niceties with a newer employee. She hoped she didn’t seem to be internally waging war with her frontal lobe for letting herself become the worst ticking time bomb to ever grace the royal family.

What if Link is ever bribed by some paparazzi outlet into telling them her worst blunders? Impa would rather keel over and die than have to cover up the fact that the queen was leering over her employees. People would speculate that she were a sex fiend. Zelda knew she wasn’t, but the thought of the tabloids sinking their claws into a story like this –

“What time is it?”

Zelda was proud with how normal she sounded. Link stopped in his tracks.

“What?”

Weird. Very weird. Zelda wondered if this was the first time she had heard that tone from him. Actually, not weird, because he probably thinks she’s a sex fiend capable of taking his innocence.

She asked again, “My phone. I forgot to charge it last night.”

The opportunity to look at him came up and she took that moment greedily. The lines on his face creased slightly deeper today. A stupid, perfectly buttoned-up man who inadvertently caused her phone to die because her charger is just short enough only reach her nightstand and charging it meant that she wouldn’t be able to see a text if she ever got one.

Stupid phone, stupid planned obsoletion, stupid cord, and _stupid man._

So much that she barely heeded his words and nodded absently to him telling her the schedule for today. When he looked up, her eyes dropped again and she briefly considered deporting whoever tailored Link’s suit. They were clearly too good at their profession, thus a danger to Hyrulean society.

“You’re usually excited about this part,” he leveled with her.

Right, Malon was on her way if she wasn’t here already. Zelda licked her teeth and nodded slightly at that. The space between her shoulders tensed, though they had been rigid the whole morning, and a dull pain ached. Trying to drop them was futile when the concentrated effort would be dashed within minutes.

Link’s feet idled in place. She should say something.

That would be the right thing to do; a form of damage control to scrape up what was left.

Shame, though, that Zelda was a coward. Her cheeks heated to a horrid degree and she was already meandering through the corridors before an apology could even begin to form. Castle staff thinned enough for her mouth out her frustration, careful not to give herself away to the mind reader that was surely still behind her. Senseless curses at her weak will and bereavements towards the jawline that got her into this mess flew to the forefront of her brain.

The steps that keen ears would need to strain to didn’t falter, so unless he played a good poker face, there was no indication he could even sample her scorn.

Pity.

A light tune interrupted her thoughts. Before she knew it, Midna was assaulting her hearing.

“I know you’re not sitting down, but it’s a miracle you picked up and I’m not going to waste this chance,” she rattled, skipping niceties altogether. “I’ve clocked a duke near Death Prairie. Very nice guy. Young, talented, great baker, daddy’s money up the ass. He’s sweet, too! I know you like those pishy poshy boys who buys flowers…”

There was a rustle and a sharp curse.

“Um, okay, he’s a Goron. Fuck, um. _Oh_! No matter, hun, no matter. Southern Necluda, yeah? Very nice guy. A light title – a baron – we can make it work.” Midna snapped her fingers. Rushed was an understatement and Zelda slumped at her attempts to get a word in. “Thirty-something years old; oh wow, no baby mama either. Listen, I’m really getting big dick energy from this one. _Really_ getting the impression that he’s ready to settle down-”

Zelda stiffened, “Can we shelve this conversation for now?”

“-the type who wants a white picket fence. A kid, two, a kindergarten class of ‘em - ”

“No, goddesses, let me respond!”

“You’re in a meeting right now, aren’t you? Shit, get me off speaker phone. Why didn’t you stop me before the dick comment?!”

“I’m not in a meeting,” she begrudgingly said. Midna had been side-eyeing every comment Zelda made about Facad. In truth, she wasn’t ecstatic about the union… it was about time she tried something new. “It’s a gala for my birthday. Not a funeral.”

“Well, I’m sorry. Here I am trying to play matchmaker and working my ass off to find a single eligible bachelor in Hyrule for Her Highness.”

She snorted as Midna rambled on about her misfortunes, tuning her out and scanning her surroundings as one does with a friend who prefers to talk to themselves over the phone. Her weight favored one side when she found his eyes.

The blond was polite as ever, waiting patiently while he traded a painting on the wall for her. Horribly, Zelda’s heart leapt. She was beyond ignoring it, instead casually setting aside the fact that the lurching sensation didn’t happen with anyone else. That bit wasn’t important. His mouth twitched into a hint of a smile.

Exasperation came through her phone.

“I don’t see it. And I know you hate when I talk about this, but I _know_ you. Zelda, you’re not made for some playboy. He’s manipulative and plans everything out so he’s ten steps ahead at all times,” Midna was audibly frowning. “Don’t let him force your hand if this isn’t what, you know, what you _really_ want.”

Her silence blared louder in Zelda’s ear. The look on the man before her shifted.

“I know,” she pulled together, “Don’t be obtuse. No one is forcing my hand.”

“You’re sure? I told you… political weddings are always a thrill for me, but you deserve disgusting hand holding and teatime dates. Don’t you remember when you forced me into a priest costume when we were kids? We were _kids_ and you had an entire wedding pinned down to the reception playlist. You told me-”

Her gut twisted. She forced her mother to sew a little tuxedo for her stuffed animal, of course she remembered.

Midna went on, talking about things Zelda had already reasoned with her about. Frustration tugged on her hard. Being regent forced a sternness in her tone she typically didn’t use with friends.

“We’ve discussed this. I don’t wish to repeat myself, please.”

Zelda shut her eyes – tight. The duchess on the other end fell quiet.

“I understand. I get it,” she paused. Zelda felt her lips quiver, but she was faster. “Don’t you dare apologize to me, Bosphoramus. I love you.”

“I love you too. I’ll see you tonight.”

Zelda gulped, pulling the material in a light sway.

Blue. Cerulean blue. Layers of it cascaded neatly into a warm green.

“Do you think I look alright?”

Malon was scrutinizing the finer details. A pair of reader glasses perched on her nose and a ball of fiery hair pulled into a perfect ballerina bun.

She hummed, “You’re only saying that because we haven’t tackled your hair and makeup. Trust the process, darlin’.”

The gown was certainly a level up from her last ball. It had the reminiscent flair of the last dress, the same that caused her to ask Link if she looked fine about one-hundred times. Why he hadn’t quit from that alone was beyond her.

“Oh!” she popped up from the tiny stool, the layers of tule underneath slid from her head. “It’s got pockets.”

“You’ve outdone yourself.”

She was already patting around to find where they were hidden.

“I know,” Malon drew out, “I know!”

The dressmaker continued, surmising details as if she hadn’t drawn up plans for this day six months ago. Zelda wasn’t able to figure out how she did it. In the right light, the gown gave off a light sparkle. Nothing gawdy, but enough to give off the impression that she was looking at the northern lights instead of layers of dress – the weight was enough to prove it.

Her friend took a step back, brushing along the silk ties along Zelda’s spine before nodding.

Then, she smiled, “Does that bodyguard have an outfit for tonight or is that the one he’s wearing?”

Confused, Zelda glanced from the door to Malon.

“Who? Link?”

“Naturally.”

“Um, I guess he’s wearing what he has on.”

Malon gave an indignant “hm”, busying herself with smoothing out the skirt. The skirt that needed no smoothing out, which prompted the suspicious question:

“Why do you ask?”

“Oh!” Malon blinked wide eyes into the mirror, feigning innocence. “No reason.”

She was glancing around. Gods, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out her and Midna were casual friends. Sky blue eyes locked onto hers.

“Well! It’s just…” The smile she gave off was anything but innocent. “You told me during wine night that Link would be attending the gala with you.”

Red met her chest and then her neck. Zelda took a hard look at the woman.

“I do not recall,” she said, saving a check to the closed door. “I said no such thing.”

“If you don’t recall then how do you know you didn’t.”

Zelda spoke through her teeth, “ _Because_ we don’t speak of what goes on during wine night outside of wine night.”

“So… no, then.”

It wasn’t hard to decide not to answer. The ties on her back were coming undone. Soon, she’d be whisked away for hair and makeup by Malon’s team. That was something she looked forward to because there was nothing she had to do but look up every now and then. The queen was given careful directions to step out of the dress.

When she followed through and went for her bra, Malon lamented, “Have to admit, he is cute. Is he single?”

Zelda sputtered, shooting a pink look at the woman.

Hylia above, she didn’t know.

She had no idea.

By the Three, she might have preyed upon a taken man. Her shame doubled, no, _quadrupled_.

“I-I don’t know.”

A curious look. “Everything okay?”

“No, yeah. I mean, yes. Absolutely,” Zelda grasped, trying to hook the white bra with sweatier hands. “It occurred to me that he’s never discussed it with me.”

The red head was stuffing the gown into a protective sleeve with a nonchalant shrug.

“Maybe he’s an all-business guy. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Not exactly, he talks about his sister a fair bit,” Zelda replied, perhaps too quickly. “And his day. Generally.”

Another little “hm”. Through the mirror, she only saw shame and guilt written in red.

The sleeved dress was in her arms by the time Zelda pulled her clothes on.

“I won’t need you for about an hour. Rest your head, okay? Big night tonight and I want to see your cheeks glowing with excitement.”

Zelda’s chest deflated. She nodded.

“Wouldn’t be a bad idea to ask that blondie out there to relieve some stress for you.”

“ _Malon_!”

Malon simply laughed.

The day flew by after that. Zelda had seen very little of Link after she excused herself to rest her head, only for that to be thwarted because he had to give her one of those classic soft smiles. “Sweet dreams” was the first casual thing he had said to her all day and it left her staring at the ceiling wondering if she would walk back out to apologize on the spot.

To say what exactly, she had no idea. An extra apology for the other possible woman in his life might lighten the burden. The ceiling brought her more questions, born of a lack of sleep and mounting insecurities that kept her heart beating too fast to fall asleep.

The possibility that Zelda had deluded herself into thinking they were closer than reality was present. A special thanks to Malon Lon-Lon for that. It’s not like she confided in him for everything, that would be exhausting for anyone, however she did when it came to Prince Facad… to an extent.

There was plenty to leave out, like her last meeting with the prince. He had ditched the intricacies of getting on one knee and took a simpler approach at a proposal. The carefully crafted “no” was at the forefront of Zelda’s mind when he leveled with her.

“I am the youngest son out of four,” Facad said in that feather-light accent. He reached over the tea table at took one of her hands as if looking for consolation. “You are an only child. I’m not blind to our differences, Queen Zelda, but if you hear me out I will not darken your doorstep again.”

And… she did. He carefully laid out what he saw in himself and then in her. It didn’t sound so premeditated as his prior visitations. There wasn’t a flashing grin or a quip that so often paired with it. Given his birth rank, he was never going to be king of his own country. Traditions aren’t so grounded there and his second eldest sister was set to the throne.

Facad was more than aware of his reputation.

“I don’t like it,” he admitted with a drop of his shoulder, “but it has stuck to me and, quite frankly, expected. Between us, I believe I’m not wrong to think there are mountains of expectations. For you, I can’t imagine.”

Then, he prefaced that he was not in love with her. She was beautiful, he assured, as glistening as melting snow caps in spring. Facad wanted a mutual understanding between them. If they were to marry, he would be an absent regent and would happily sign a prenup that detailed that his power stopped at the title. In doing so Zelda would have freedom to be taken more seriously given that her own part of the job was done.

“But why would you do that? I don’t understand.”

“Because as much as I would pass up the opportunity of ruling my birth country, I’m still a son who wants the respect of his father,” he smiled gently, “And I do love Hyrule. I don’t only stick around for her queen, after all.”

Not long after, he rose to leave and told her he’d try one more time and his only request was her promise to think about it.

“Do not worry. Allow me one more attempt and I’ll be on my way. My apologies for not being more honest.”

So, Zelda thought.

And thought.

She thought for over a month before Midna broke the news of her suspicions.

When Zelda told her what was on her mind, Midna was aggrieved, throwing her hands up as if the world itself was in the balance. They bickered back and forth until Zelda made it clear that it was her decision alone. Malon took it easier, or at least her disappointment wasn’t as pronounced.

Impa was third to know and the frown she received was far deeper than her age.

“Politically intelligent. That would scare away a few problems,” she had said, “Though, nothing I would expect from you.”

Besides her close circle of friends, Zelda had kept her thoughts on the matter very secret. Link would make the usual jests when Facad would be in headlines and she would laugh like nothing was amiss.

Quite convincing if she were anyone to judge.

It seemed like five minutes ago she was seating in front of a vanity when two hours had passed since then. The entrance hall was clear and she could hear the music halfway down. As customary, Queen Zelda would arrive fashionably late and give a brief speech to thank her guests for attending.

“You’re set.” Impa tapped the pencil against her clipboard after her short quizzing. Her pearl hair was halfway up and the red gown she wore looked radiant.

Zelda let out a heavy breath. Impa offered her some sympathy with a light pat to her shoulder. They came up to the ballroom door.

Link looked up from his spot, murmuring into his earpiece before standing completely straight.

“I will see you on the other side,” the press secretary assured, nodding to Link.

Then, they were left alone other than the footman at the door.

“Long time, no see,” Zelda said. Her fingers were weaving into the layered skirts in a way that would make Malon twitch, but she had to do something to stave off the anxiety. Bouncing her foot would lead her to doing it during her speech, which would be unseemly at best.

He didn’t reply. She thought he nodded, but she wasn’t sure.

 _He’s angry with me_ , she thought. Her mind was a traitor.

Link was always quick to make short conversations with her. These moments before big appearances were the worst and he knew that. Distractions typically worked and the fact that he wasn’t even attempting crowded her brain.

Okay. Okay, she could do this. She’d push this little situation to the side and tackle the next few hours with grace, then come back to it later.

Her hands were shaking. Zelda pressed her arms tightly to her sides, letting her limbs be enveloped by her skirts but it didn’t stop that fact that she could feel herself trembling. It wasn’t unusual to be nervous before ballroom introductions. Since she was a child, she felt awkward when a room of people stopped and stared.

Zelda didn’t need Link’s scrutinizing gaze to convince her that this was different. By now, she was used to the fact that she didn’t have a parent’s hand to hold. Why was this moment the one where she felt the most alone?

“Five minutes,” Link said lowly as if imparting some secret to her.

The breath she breathed was unsteady. Overthinking came so easily but this was not the time whatsoever. She should be thinking happier thoughts and pair them with the present. Like a rich red wine and a bleeding steak.

The beach, Bloody Marys, feeling so giddy that any word from Midna made her tremor with laughter. Laughing and looking at Link watch her with that minute grin. Feel warm under his eyes and shoot back to Midna who would wiggle her eyebrows.

Pretend not to know what she was going on about.

“So, you’re going to do it?” Link spoke, much to her surprise. He was usually so preoccupied with checking security measures within the ballroom. His words weren’t to his earpiece and though his eyes looked forward, it was unmistakable that he was focused on her.

Zelda buried her fretting.

“I’m,” she attempted, doubling back in case he wasn’t hinting at what her mind had been on for days. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

His gaze met hers. Undeterred by her vagueness and with a hardness she wasn’t accustomed to. Something was broiling underneath.

There was even heat in the undertones of his voice. It was a spark that she wanted to kindle against him. She got it; he was mad at her. Why was he trying to rub it in?

“You do, though.”

“You’re brash tonight.”

“Would you like me to spell it out?” he asserted in a way she loathed. “The fact that you’re going to get engaged to someone you barely know.”

“It has nothing to do with you.”

He made a sharp noise. Frustration mixed with a stressful sigh. Stress that should be owned entirely by her.

“Link,” she said with a fine point, “I don’t have time for this.”

“Evidently since it took you so long to tell me what was going on. Why wouldn’t you talk to me about this?”

“Talk to you about what?” Zelda caught more than the corner of his eye. “To help me? How exactly would you achieve that?”

When she broke it to him last night, she didn’t get this type of push back at all. Silence built until she unfurled her hands from her skirts. Confidence in her decision bubbling in her chest.

“Facad is a… a very well-loved man by my people. He has a title that would make traditionalists quite happy and the personality perfectly suited for the media. Yes, he is,” she swallowed mid-speech, “he is… suitable.”

“Suitable for you?”

“I’m sure there is common ground.”

“You’ll marry a guy just because of common ground.”

She bit down on her back molars. They were talking in hushed voices now since the noise had heightened behind the door.

“If that’s all you need then it makes sense that you kissed me. I would have thought your parents had shown you that there wasn’t a need to be this rash.”

Link stopped short when she was beyond saving face. She wanted to slap him and mutely wondered if he were happy to see her upset. The mascara on her lashes did its job to quarter her tears.

“Don’t act like you know what’s better for me,” Zelda all but sneered, glaring at him to push past the emotion. “I did make a mistake, but you must hate me if you think I’d take advantage of you. _Especially_ like that.”

Her hair felt uncomfortable and there was nothing more she wanted to do than pull it down from it’s bun.

“And my parents were a match made by Hylia. They married at 19, Link. There wasn’t time for people to accuse my mother of being impotent or altogether unlovable.”

Zelda stood straighter, clapping her hands over her cheeks to gauge the warmth.

It was fine. She was fine. Everything will be fine.

The footman at the door gave a signal. Time had run out.

“Zelda, I’m sorry,” he said. Only to her. There was another part of his sentence that stopped short. Link didn’t amend it.

She would breathe, find eye contact with him, and smile.

 _I want you to be happy_. It was a kind sentiment. Very much like the Link she knew.

“I know.”

The door opened to silence that she stepped forward to fill.

Link did not follow her. He never did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise shawty-!!
> 
> This is supposed to be a 3 chapter story, but I gave myself event goals for each chapter and.... it ended up being a 21k chapter. If you don't see another chapter after this one, chances are you're too fast of a reader and I'm still proofreading. Apologies for leaving you all off on a cliff hanger!
> 
> Umm, I think that's it. Let me know what you think of the POV changes and if they read alright. I usually don't employ them but I'm doing it for the *drama*. Lmk if you see inconsistencies between the other stories and this one, the lore is getting too expansive haha. 
> 
> Now I can answer the comments from last chapter without feeling guilty :)


	3. Leave Me, But Take Me Before You Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nsfw below, you perverts

The room was overwhelming. Years of dancing within its walls hadn’t dampened its beauty in the slightest. They say that the elaborate paintings had been there for five centuries, other than regular preservation the original color is still intact to this day.

As a child, she would sneak into the ballroom during full moons. At midnight, the room would be washed in moonlight and she’d grab a cup of hot cocoa to gaze up at the tapestries. There was a foyer lining the room that she would swear was haunted.

It hadn’t stopped her from waltzing with invisible partners, often tripping over her own feet in the process. Zelda wouldn’t be the first to admit that she was a peculiar child.

A quartet continued playing after she descended the staircase with a gloved hand skimming the guard rail. The first task of the night swiftly completed. For the next few minutes, she’d converse with a mixture of advisors and members of parliament. Zelda counted the three times she had declined a glass of champagn before she “gave in”.

“You are one bad influence, Lord Bermont!”

Bermont chuckled with a thick northern accent.

“Why else would I be here, Your Grace?”

After that, she busied herself around the room asking about families and new children. It was the nicer part of the evening, something that grew to be less exhausting once she learned to keep track of everything. What had been draining were the subtle favors being asked beneath praises.

“Prime Minister do be conscious that it is Her Majesty’s birthday,” Midna sung, looping her arm around Zelda’s from out of the blue. The jesting manner kept everything light and happy as discussions of export trades were killing Zelda.

The Prime Minister dipped her head in slight apology.

“We shall continue this at a later time, be assured!” Zelda acquiesced. Only once the woman had left did she thank Midna.

She scoffed, “It’s so drab when they do that. Why can’t we get drunk without politics for once?”

“You’re asking the wrong cousin.”

They stalled together, sipping their respective glasses and looked about the room. Too many times did she glance up at the foyer to see a security guard walking by, none of them was what she was wanting to see.

“Malon called me today,” Midna said, dipping her volume. “She said you seemed troubled, so I wanted to make sure you knew I didn’t mean to doubt you. I trust your judgement.”

Zelda couldn’t help her smile. “Is that an apology from Midna Twili or do my ears deceive me?”

An eyeroll. “I take it back.”

“Too late,” Zelda mused, “It’s not your fault. Even Link was short with me today.”

“Link? Mr. Serious?” Midna shot her an abrupt look. “The guy who won’t have one beer because technically he’s always working?”

Her eyes flickered to the foyer, uselessly.

“You’re being dramatic, but yes. I told him last night about Facad and he was fine. Today, not even an hour ago, he just…” Zelda shrugged. She was too eager with the champagne tonight.

Midna balked, “Yelled at you?”

“No, but he was very stern with me,” Zelda said. Her brow pinch slightly in thought. “I hadn’t expected it of him.”

“Intriguing. _Very_ intriguing.”

A waving fan came into view, not long after was there a fanciful, “My darling, you look lovely tonight. Can I ask who your designer is?”

Malon brushed a red curl from her shoulder and demurely looked over her fan. A man was on her arm and Zelda could have sworn he was on her television last night.

“I wonder,” Zelda laughed, twirling enough to the dress to twist around her.

Dark eyes cut Zelda short. He caught her by the barrage of dancing couples. Long blond hair, lighter than hers, was tied at the nape of his neck and he wore a white suit.

It went without saying that Prince Facad White of Labrynna was handsome. Paparazzi loved him for a reason: a title and a movie-star face were good combinations.

He ducked his head towards the women he was conversing with and turned on his heel.

Zelda’s friends and the small pocket of guests around them fell quiet. Malon and her gentleman friend stepped aside.

“Your Majesty,” he greeted, bowing deeply before her. Her response was a chaste nod, a smile. “You look radiant tonight.”

The audience shouldn’t surprise her. It hadn’t, but her nerves wound right in her chest regardless. Zelda passed her champagne to Midna and folded her hands at her waist.

“How pleasant it is to see you well, Prince Facad.”

He chuckled.

An outstretched hand beckoned her.

“Might I steal the first dance?”

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, though she tried. Gloved hands clasped together. She peeled them apart and placed one in the center of his own.

“Certainly.”

It had seemed premeditated the way he pulled her out to the center of the ballroom right as the orchestra finished their number. An older piece filled the room soon after and Zelda had to scrape up muscle memory for a waltz she learned early in her dance lessons. The tightness in her chest was very present as if a monster were around every corner, stalking her and waiting for the right moment.

“We have had short correspondences before, but I wanted to make certain,” White said by her ear. She was reminded once more of his attractiveness and committed to memory that it was a positive thing.

Zelda barely nodded, “It’s a commitment. As you know. I should inquire the same from you.”

Baritone laughter. Her skirts swept the floor as they turned.

Maintaining a smile in adversity wasn’t uncommon, but this was a situation she was unused to. To pretend alone gave her the lead role, how will she perform with another actor? Mother and Father never had to act in this way. Their lives weren’t on puppet strings like this.

The first decade of her reign was expected to be scrutinized. Being so young, Mother was quick to remind her that she was the posterchild of Hyrule. The eyes of the world would be upon her. Judgement and praise would be a hair’s breadth away from each other; a scale that teetered on superficiality overall. The weight of the crown makes all the difference.

“Hylia gifted you with kindness and beauty. Men use these qualities for what they are, but women must turn them into weapons,” she had said many times. That mischievous grin would make Father raise a brow.

Facad pulled away.

“I am and will be committed to you. We are simply in the market for the same thing, but for different reasons,” he said, a toothy smile grew. He had guided them to the edge of the couples. Zelda realized they had been circling this conversation for several dances, she had been too caught up in thought to realize it.

He leaned in, dramatically. The show of it all made her flush with all the people around. Hopefully, it came off as romantic because the embarrassment made her watch the ground with strict intent.

“May I take you into the gardens?”

Strings of curses flew silently. It was meant to be a whisper, but that was Countess Moloneaux beside them. The worst gossip monger in court.

Zelda reeled herself in to avoid stammering, “Of course, Facad.”

_Ignore them. Ignore them. Walk out of the ballroom with a level head, like you’re excited but not too excited. You’re Queen Zelda XXIV of Hyrule, not a schoolgirl._

The night’s humidity washed over like a blanket when they walked through the tall doors to the interior gardens. Gas lamps were lit throughout to offer lighting while maintaining the elegancy. Zelda remembered requesting those over typical lamps that would ruin the ambience of the rose bushes. Her bodyguard thought it was a security risk, but it was an issue she refused to budge on much to his chagrin.

Most who ventured outside sat on the balcony overlooking the landscape. They hushed to stare as Facad helped her down the steps to the walkway.

“Here,” he said, passing her a glass of wine. It was a deep red. She blinked in surprise as she hadn’t noticed the glasses on their way out. “Thought this would be helpful.”

She could only think to nod.

They found a bench passed the tall hedges. A little privacy amongst the chaos. With newly found energy, she turned to him.

“You’re very good at this.”

He had been taking in the tulips across the way. Facad pursed his lips.

“You say that as if you haven’t done quite well yourself. I find it easier to bounce off someone,” he shrugged. “Adds a little spice to the performance.”

Ah, so he was on the same page. Through their short emails and phone calls, there was that underlying inference that they would be playing this up despite nothing being explicitly said. A common trait from their upbringings, she suspected.

“Well, doing so in front of the Countess was very bold. I’m sure two thirds of the room knows of our whereabouts by now.”

“You noticed that? Right time, right place. I’m not all that conniving, my dear.”

It might have been the lighting or the there lack of because he embodied a certain melancholy that wasn’t there before. She took a large drink of her wine, hoping it’d fill that hole rotting through her body.

He regarded her for a moment and settled back into the seat.

“I take it that you’re not accustomed to this,” Facad lamented, “Not saying that you should be.”

Zelda hummed her humor. “No. Can’t say I am. Too used to doing this alone.”

“Which is fascinating. I find it rather difficult alone. My siblings were my first company and we’d play at being a happy family. Then, I left all that and I found influence.” He raised his brow and scratched his cheek in thought. “More influence in the stunts I pulled. Movie actresses, models, lower nobility took a liking to me. We’re two people on the opposite spectrums.”

His casualness brought down the gravity of the mess they were in. It might have been the normalcy he treated it with or the wine that made her slump back. Humor danced in his dark eyes before he returned to his glass.

She wrinkled her nose.

“I resented you for a time. You seemed to get in so many dirty situations. Parties, family drama, the many girlfriends. If I even _looked_ at a man for too long, I’d see some publishing about an engagement or that I had eloped. You always got away with it. Every time, two days wouldn’t even go by and they would forgive you,” she sighed.

The prince chuckled and shook his head.

He scoffed, “I’m about as clueless as you. Sometimes I’d do it on purpose, you know, to give my PR team a bad time.”

The look she gave him was incredulous.

“I’d tip off the paparazzi and go to the sleeziest strip club. A couple drinks later, I’d go out to wave at the shmucks taking my picture. I did it every week for a whole summer.”

She rolled her eyes. “Unbelievable.”

“Nothing bad came out of it. You don’t even remember. Say, your politicians must have some opinions. What do they think of me?”

“As a suitor?” Zelda paused, glancing skyward. “They don’t have much sway in marriages anymore, as much as they talk. A few generations ago was a very different story. Honestly, Facad, you have the title and the charm. The round ears might be a detriment, but a small one.”

He was quiet for a moment. Zelda found her wine glass depleted.

“I suppose that brings about the question. I was going to ask you inside, but at the chance that I’d make you feel uncomfortable… this seemed to be a better option.”

Prince Facad took in a large breath, as if digging in his suit pocket was laborious. The black velvet box made her wish Hylia would grant her the power to make wine from thin air. It didn’t have to be wine.

He didn’t move to get down on one knee, or even to stand. Somehow that was better, like they didn’t need to fake it. Mother had always told Zelda that her father had been a nervous wreck when he popped the question. Everything that could go wrong during the proposal did, but Mother loves to laugh.

Facad said it as if he were asking her to tea.

Her answer wasn’t vocalized. It came in a numb nod. The white glove slipped from her hand.

The ring that he slid on her finger was a half size too small with weight that made her hand sag when he let go. Swallowing thickly, she commented on the beautiful shine. He seemed happy she liked it.

It didn’t last too long. There wasn’t an embrace or a romantic kiss to seal the promise. The flicker of the lamps turned stale.

“Well, love,” he said as he took a stand. “Let’s get this over with.”

Just as he led her in, he took her hand on the way out. There were a few more couples on the balcony, enough to be noticeable. She ignored the man at the far end who pushed himself from the banister at her appearance and retreated inside.

A switch flipped on. Like the cover of gossip magazines, Facad White grinned and gazed at her once they scaled the stairs. A thin gasp from the balcony reached her. Zelda almost faltered – almost.

She held his hand and nodded, as if he was asking for her permission to reenter the ballroom.

The music slowed. Impa was at the edge of the forming crowd. She gave her a wilted smile before typing away press releases on her phone. Thrumming heartbeats filled her ears. Her fiancé – Hylia, her _fiancé –_ squeezed her hand.

Queen Zelda cleared her throat and lifted her left hand.

“It seems that I’m engaged.” She couldn’t help the peels of light laughter. Shocked surprise and applause were all she heard.

A common criticism of high society is their dishonesty. That one does not say what they mean.

In reality, the participants of high society are too honest. They are books to be read in great detail. Body gestures, intonation, vocabulary: these are all languages to be translated. Context clues to the overall plot.

Take engagement congratulations as a great example.

Countess Moloneax was a woman of tradition. Zelda could discern her genuine excitement in the diatribes of lectures in marriage sanctity. Her nose did not wrinkle and her left eye did not twitch. Yes, she was quite pleased with the news and commended herself for being the first to discover it.

Urbosa wasn’t exactly indifferent and Zelda suspected disappointment as the topic had eventually shifted from the engagement to gowns after Malon joined in. The Gerudo made no attempt to return the conversation to the prince.

Midna expressed her outrage in a twitching eye and the obsoletion of the male sex altogether in front of Prince Facad. Her disapproval was found explicit when she special ordered a stiff bourbon on the rocks. It was a plus, however, that she didn’t pull Zelda to the side to plead reconsideration. In fact it was a sign of progress.

For Zelda, it was easy to catch onto these things. She was adept in the art, but her rope on herself was growing taunt. The ring on her finger was incredibly tight and a constant reminder that she was going to marry in less than a year. There was no taking it off, it would be read as bad luck and a premonition that her heart wasn’t into it.

This wasn’t the proposal she had pictured. The man might match the description, but all she wanted to do was crawl under the covers of her bed – alone. Champagne found its way into her hand again and she knew this needed to be her last. A woman drinking on the night of her engagement was excusable to an extent, though Zelda knew someone somewhere was counting.

Midna had left her for the washroom, annoyed that Zelda wouldn’t join her. But she couldn’t for a reason that was growing more and more prominent. If Midna cornered her, there was no telling what she’d do. She swallowed it down and smiled to herself.

Prince Facad was across the room, laughing with a group of men and seeming to have the time of his life. She could find happiness with someone like that. Zelda could find happiness with him. There was no question about it.

“Congratulations, Your Majesty,” a woman smiled. Someone from Midna’s circle. She was graceful in how she found audience with Zelda.

Zelda tried to copy her. It was a flimsy gesture. She didn’t recognize her completely. Rita… the last name didn’t come to mind.

“Yes,” Zelda laughed out, “Yes, thank you. A surprise for sure.”

She was beautiful. An actress? Maybe a musician, but it could easily be a reporter and the connection to Midna brought too much to the table. Air came quick to Zelda, but it didn’t catch in her chest for long. Rita tilted her head, “Are you doing alright?”

What if she could see through her? What if—

“Perfectly fine,” Zelda said. “I’m simply overwhelmed with the occasion.”

Her empty hand scrambled up to her ribs to find her chest moving faster than usual. She set her champagne glass on a tray of a passing butler. “If you would please excuse me.”

The room had eyes on her when she moved through the crowds. Prying, unfeeling eyes that held many questions she knew she couldn’t answer. She felt light-headed and took the nearest door to her right. The noise of the orchestra shifted drastically to the clanging of pots and pans. Two servers swerved around her to reach the still-moving door. Zelda squinted at the harsh lights and kept moving forward to reach the door on the other end.

Barrages of shouting endured even after she busted through the second door. A thin hallway she didn’t recognize was spread out, stretching to her left and right. Without reason, she went left and pressed forward. If she was acknowledged to any degree in the service hall, she didn’t return the favor because she was much too occupied with saving her breath.

There had to be an exit. Somewhere for her to get some air. Goddess, please, anywhere.

“Your Majesty-!”

Her heels stuttered for a moment before clicking against tile faster. Zelda abruptly turned a corner, almost running into some poor man. It was rude, she knew, but she regained her footing and pushed on with renewed motivation.

Behind her was a rushed apology and then a stern: “Queen Zelda.”

She felt her face contort. Her throat burned harshly. Another crossroad of hallways came up to challenge her and a quick assessment with a swiveling head revealed a bright green exit sign. With every ounce of directional purpose, she bounded towards it.

The pursuer was closing in on her, but she was already at the double doors and she pushed them open with force. Goosebumps raced up her arms as the hot night air hit her skin. A pair of men looked up from their place on the steps. One was lighting the other’s cigarette. She wobbled down the uneven staircase.

“Your Majesty, please-”

She was already in the act of taking her heels off when she turned to face him.

“Stop following me!” she yelled, voice taunt and foreign.

Link stood on the first step; the door propped open with his forearm arm. His chest heaved as if he had just ran a marathon. His eyes darted to one of her heels in her hand and then to the two men, who quickly snuffed their cigarettes and slid past him into the building.

The door shut behind him. Her heartbeat deafened her. The light from the hall was now extinguished and the small maintenance parking lot was a far cry from a ballroom. She glowered at his presence before leaning on the railing to wrestle the strap on the opposite heel. In her peripheral, she saw him shaking his head.

“I don’t want to hear it,” she said curtly. “I don’t care.”

The latch came undone, finally releasing its pressure on her ankle. Link silently scaled down the steps which made her retch her shoe off faster.

“I told you to stop following me.”

He paused on the last step at her bark. Zelda glared up at him with both heels in her hands. The silk-lined pantyhose around her feet protested to being against asphalt. Not without a slight twitch, he remained stationary as she walked deftly away from him. The dumpster was annoyingly tall and the first attempt to throw her shoes into it was only half-successful. The first toppled in and the second hit the metallic side with a low bang. Zelda ignored his stare as she bent to grab it.

The second heel was thrown in when he asked, “Where are you going?”

Zelda leveled with him, now completely shoeless beside the kitchen’s dumpsters and without a car or any knowledge of what she needed to do next. However, that was the last thing she wanted him to know. There was a storm in her chest and she wanted it to burn him too.

“I doubt you would care.” Her feet padded against the parking lot and towards the exit gate. Zelda pulled at her skirts that dragged more heavily without the leverage of height.

A heavy sigh followed her with the sound of scraping shoes.

The tule was getting caught on her left hand as she gathered the fabric together. Frustration built so greatly that she stopped to tug at the obnoxious ring. It scraped her skin as the band dragged upward before stopping painfully at her knuckle. Tears pricked her eyes. A layer of her dress was wedged between the ridiculous intricacies of the metal and the diamond.

Link approached her as if everything she had demanded him was nothing. He exhaled audibly and she didn’t deny him when he took her hand to examine what she was trying to do.

“I don’t need your help,” was all she said.

He didn’t even look up from the engagement ring.

“I know.”

Slowly he coaxed the band over her knuckle with short instructions to relax. When it came off, the dress fell away and he placed it in her palm. It was heavy, much too heavy for regular wear. Likely the prince was thinking she would only wear it in public if the prince were thinking of her at all.

She looked at Link with every intention to continue on.

“Move.”

Another couple of heartbeats.

“No.”

“If you were my friend you would move.”

Another audible exhale. She was exhausting him.

“Zelda, I can’t just let you leave like that.”

“And why not?” her volume toed the thin line of shouting. “What if I walked through those gates and left _everything_? I could order you not to follow me and you wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it.”

Her bodyguard quieted. It only soured her. A wave of debilitating tears threatened to drown her, but she rejected them. “What if everything up until now has been too much? What am I to do, Link?”

The tiara dug into her scalp and scraped, scraped, _scraped_. With fumbling hands, she wretched it from her crown and winced as several strands of hair were ripped free. The pain pushed more tears to prick at her eyes.

“I could,” Zelda paused to swallow her words and search the ground for answers, “I could leave, right? I could start over somewhere else. I’m fluent in six different languages, I can step down and leave Hyrule. I’ll do just fine.”

There was no one to take her place, no heirs and no immediate family. The knowledge made her squeeze her eyes shut. At best, parliament would appoint someone – perhaps Midna? It would be better than someone she didn’t know even though Midna would be horrified. At worst, there would be infighting. Zelda had been politely approached by several distant family members who were vying for the throne, who was to say that wouldn’t erupt?

Her fingers interlaced and she squeezed until her knuckles grew white. She was desperately looking for an answer – looking for an _out_. Zelda wished that he would walk away and decide that she was too much, but as her mind caught on to that thought it hurt more than her hopes.

What would happen if she abdicated? Like any other question, she separated them into groups and slowly the cons out-stacked the pros at a dizzying rate. The economy would surely react to how unsure the political climate would be. No matter how small her power was, the queen was the tie-breaking vote in legislation. If she wanted to disappear, there would be a nationwide panic. Was it worth her freedom?

“You could,” Link said, cutting through. He hadn’t moved from his place before her except now his hands were in his pockets. “If you left or abdicated or decided to take a train north, I would ask if I could come with you.”

He looked at her as honestly as anything else he’s ever said to her. She realized he had lost his suit jacket between the time the Gala started and now. Probably from running around those few seconds he didn’t have eyes on her. As stressed as she had made him, he lacked it now. Link’s shoulders abandoned tension to betray his obvious exhaustion.

“And force you to follow me around even more?”

That made him crack a grin. “Only if you let me.”

Zelda breathed out a laugh. It was lame and fell quickly from her lips. Link grunted as he bent down and offered her the tiara she hadn’t even realized she dopped.

“I realize it’s not my place, but you don’t need to make a decision tonight.”

She swallowed a lump in her throat. “It’s a lot.”

He watched her closely, considering something.

“Yeah,” he was nodding, “It is. But it’s nothing that needs to be determined now.”

“I’m tired, Link,” Zelda frowned. There wasn’t any strength behind her voice and she wondered if he understood the oceans of honestly behind that statement. She then wondered if she even understood it herself.

“I bet. Let’s take the halls to the east wing and I can have Daruk check the cameras to get us to your-”

“No, I really don’t want to go back in there.”

Link paused but nodded again. “Okay, let’s look into available hotels.”

“I… do we have to?”

“No,” Link quirked a brow at her. “Of course not. Where do you want to go, then?”

There wasn’t a clear answer. Inside the castle sounded beyond stifling and hotel rooms were cold places that posed issues if she was spotted. So, she shrugged and honestly admitted, “I don’t know.”

He raised a hand to the back of his neck, there was something turning between his eyes that he eventually acquiesced to. “Would you like to meet Aryll?”

“Yes, but doesn’t she live with you?”

Then, it clicked. His shoulders lifted and dropped.

“Are you sure?” Zelda fretted. “I’d hate to intrude.”

“As long as you’re comfortable with it,” he blinked like he just realized something important. “It’s not, I mean, it’s not a house. I live in an apartment on the east end. Close to Aryll’s school, that’s why.”

“Are you trying to explain to me your living situation? I’m not that snobby.”

He huffed at that, a slight smile gracing him. It disarmed her. There was a certain amount of guilt that went with staying with him, but she wanted to be anywhere where expectation wouldn’t touch her. If Zelda knew that the world will be throwing her this curveball, then she would’ve bought a train ticket. Now, it was far too late to take a day train to the lodge – at least too late to be safe and Link-approved.

She could always try to walk there.

“I’m letting you know that not everyone lives in a palace,” he had his phone in his hands and had already launched into a plan before Zelda could retort. “Daruk can swing around with a car. He can take care to cover for the night – I suspect you don’t want Impa to know? Aryll was supposed to cook for herself tonight… so we might need to think of a plan B in case the fire department is there.”

Ever the problem solver, Link rambled on. Zelda gave him a hard look.

“It’s fine. I promise.”

There was nothing more to do than relent. She was spent emotionally and physically at that point, simply happy that he was willing to drive. Apparently, Link had removed his earpiece trying to chase after her, and it was odd to hear Daruk scolding his superior over the phone. Being in a partly managerial position, she had thought Link would be hard on his team with how serious he takes his job around her. However when she had the opportunity to see into his world, everyone worked in tandem.

About fifteen minutes later, Link’s SUV pulled around with a grumbling Daruk clambering out of it.

“Don’t you dare mention the seat,” he grunted to Link, “I wasn’t hired to be your chauffeur.”

The Goron turned to Zelda with a worried look. With a tone considerably lighter than how he addressed Link, he said, “And what about you, Your Majesty? How are you?”

There was worry there and she wondered what exactly transpired when she left the Gala unannounced.

“I’m… quite tired,” she honestly replied. Link gave them a glance before going to shift some items in the front seat to the back.

Daruk briefly went over what had shortly transpired and how Impa was handling it.

“The press is only disappointed they didn’t get a good shot of you and that White fellow together. I told Miss Impa you were feeling under the weather and turned in early. Seems only my partner is mad because I didn’t gave ‘em a rock as big as yours.”

Zelda laughed, turning the ring over in her pocket. She laughed only because of his high spirits but the knowledge of pictures spreading so soon planted an ill-feeling in her stomach.

He bid her a short farewell, only taking to discussing with Link about sharing his location before leaving.

“The kitchen staff,” Link had yelled after him, shooting Daruk a nod towards the service entrance as he opened the car door for Zelda.

He closed the door before she could hear a response.

The car ride itself went smoothly. Her skirts were a sea of fabric around her and despite her repeated apologies, Link brushed her off. The radio played an acoustic indie station at a low volume and the bustling nightlife seeped into the background. A billboard passed by of Urbosa’s lounging figure with the airing times of her talk show were on display.

“Hey,” Link softly cut her out of her daze, “How’re you feeling?”

He checked her shortly from the driver’s side before watching the road again. The streetlights lit shadows on his face every few seconds.

Zelda couldn’t think of an answer.

“Tired?” he tried for her. She nodded, making him nod along too. “Yeah. Me too.”

For the remainder of the ride, which wasn’t very long after that got on the expressway, she stole long looks at him. There were brief moments where she urged to ask him what he was thinking. How can he not hate her? Surely, she had thought she got some confirmation before her opening speech. Zelda parted her lips only to shut her mouth again to keep the quiet seal between them unbroken.

They pulled into a parking garage that opened with a clicker Link had on his visor.

“Aryll,” he said into his phone, “Is anyone in the elevator?”

After pulling his keys out the ignition, he balanced them between his teeth while reaching in the back. Zelda stifled a laugh as he launched into a short argument.

“This is more important than your movie – no yeah, I can tell you didn’t even read my text. Hypocrite.”

Then, there was a fair amount of screeching that made him startle and pull the phone away from his ear. There was a very audible: _O-M-G, are you serious?!_

Link shot a weary look at Zelda, who could only grin.

“Could you not embarrass me? …yes, she can hear you. Check the elevators.”

With a bag slung over his shoulder, Link stopped Zelda from opening her door and glanced about the garage. Once he was satisfied, he made his way over and let her out.

The elevator began rolling once the button lit up. Link offered an encouraging smile, “She’s, uh, a big fan.”

“She seems sweet, Link. Don’t look so worried.”

There was something else on her mind. Zelda tilted her head, considering, “Not but two hours ago we had the worst spat we have ever had in the history of our friendship and now you’re inviting me into your home.”

Link ushered her into the elevator and made sure her dress didn’t catch on anything. The doors shut swiftly when he met her with an abrupt lift and drop to his shoulders.

“I know you think you’re imposing,” he said. The wry smile he offered made her heart stop. “But I was raised to watch out for my friends. I wouldn’t have suggested having you if I didn’t want you.”

Curiosity followed as she watched him survey the hallway before waving her through.

“We have older neighbors,” he mentioned but he still looked up and down the hallway every few steps until they reached the end. “I don’t expect them to be up.”

Link wasn’t even done pulling out his keys when the apartment door flew open to reveal a wide-eyed teenager. Her blonde hair, not so different from Link’s, was pulled up into a bun. Her pajamas were a stark difference to Link and Zelda’s formal wear and it seemed to be the first thing on her mind.

“I’m _so_ sorry I have nothing better to wear! Oh, my goddesses, it is so nice to meet you!”

Her brother gave an annoyed gesture to wave her from the doorway and placed a hand on the small of Zelda’s back to guide her in.

Link made a face while she swept Zelda up in a hug, squealing with excitement about how pretty she was and how long she had been wanting to make her acquaintance.

Zelda sputtered, an aloof smile overtaking her, “Don’t be sorry! I’m the one intruding.”

“No you’re not-” Link was promptly interrupted.

“No! You’re not!” she gasped, “Absolutely not. _Someone_ should’ve called me about the queen coming so I could’ve at least put on makeup.”

That someone rolled his eyes while unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt.

“You never answer my calls anyway. Can I get the esteemed Queen Zelda a paper cup of water since it doesn’t look like Aryll did the dishes?”

Aryll gawked at him. Their bickering ensued after that. The apartment wasn’t exactly the humble abode Link made it out to be. It had a large open kitchen with granite counters. Across from the kitchen, the living space had a flat screen hanging from the wall streaming an old western. Beside that was a short hallway with a door with a pink “A” hanging from it.

Zelda perched herself from one of the bar stools to admire the little breakfast nook in the corner that had a perfect view of the streets below. Among all, it was well-lived in.

A paper cup slid her way, capturing her attention just as Link mouthed: _I’m sorry_.

The sink was running hot water with a healthy amount of suds. Aryll was still rattling on about how unbelievable her brother was while scrubbing dishes underneath the water’s surface.

In return, he rolled his eyes, unclipping accessories from his belt. The deep click of his gun being unholstered and being rested on the counter made Aryll spin around.

“What have I told you about dumping all your work thingies in the kitchen? Literally, I told you two days ago,” she gestured a soapy hand towards Zelda, “And in front of _Her Majesty_?”

Link’s eyes darted to hers for back-up where he received none what-so-ever.

She held the paper cup to her lips and looked him up and down.

“Two days ago.”

“It’s not like you don’t know what I do for a living!”

“I think my etiquette teacher would say that it’s still improper.”

“See, Link,” Aryll said, wiping her hands on a rag. “Even her etiquette teacher says so.”

* * *

Link Forester was quite tired.

He blinked at the mirror above his dresser with dark eyes, though the sound of laughter coming from two women in the kitchen made the corner of his mouth tip upwards. A text message lit up his phone while he unbuckled his belt.

**Daruk**

_what is that? like a 7 carat diamond ?? that’s death mountain quality right there. no scrawny labrynnian could mine that_

Just as Link read it, a zoomed in picture of the ring on Zelda’s hand came through underneath. He stared at it longer than he should have, then tossed his phone onto the bed behind him with a loud sigh.

Yeah, he was tired.

He took a seat on the foot of the bed, kicking off his shoes and pausing. The phone was in his hand again and already unlocked to the picture. Link studied it blankly. There was no thinking. A muffled conversation from the kitchen drew him back to reality. Inviting Zelda here might not have an idea born of an awful lot of thinking either.

Link dragged a hand over his face and stared at his socks on the carpet below him. There were very few times where he lost sight of her. If he wasn’t with her, he knew her location, and even then he scarcely lost view of her. There was that horrible time at the theme park within the first year he started working under her. Gods, he nearly bodied a little kid once he found her on a bench. She was fine, of course, eating an ice cream cone and blissfully unaware of how stressful the last ten minutes were.

Then there was tonight when he lost sight of her in the Gala. There were too many people and when Daruk couldn’t spot her on the cameras Link damn near lost his mind. Even Revali buzzed in on the channel to calm him down. Finally, Daruk found her bounding down one of the service halls.

He’d seen her cry before, but that back there was worse. She was hyperventilating and convinced the world was going to close in on her. The trust she had in him had gone too, going by the look of disgust she shot at him.

_Stop following me!_

“Link,” Aryll tapped on his open bedroom door, popping her head inside before walking in completely. “Zelda isn’t able to fit in my jammies. She’s taller than me so… hey, are you alright?”

He straightened, quickly nodding.

“Yeah, I’m just tired. What’s up?”

She lingered but thankfully moved on to repeat herself.

“I was wondering if I can steal some of your clothes for Zelda.”

Link motioned for her to do just that and she quickly began shuffling through his dresser drawers. Aryll turned her head slightly to speak as she did.

“I really like her. Like I know you said she was nice, but she knew my name and everything! She told me just to call her Zelda, can you believe that?”

He hummed with a smile. “My older tees are in the bottom drawer. The ones you shrunk in the wash.”

“Oh sweet. See! I told you not to throw them out. Also, you should see how many pins I’ve pulled out of her hair. It’s crazy.”

She left with carefully chosen sweatpants, a tee shirt, and a sing-song thanks.

With that, Link shut the door and changed too. Just happy to be out of a suit. He found himself on the living room recliner watching whatever western Aryll left on. The sheriff in the movie was winning over the damsel-in-distress when Zelda sat herself on the couch. She must have showered because there wasn’t any hairspray holding back her hair and the ends were damp from the hairdryer.

He was quick to grab a chance to look away.

“Thank you, Link,” she said. “Really, I mean it.”

He couldn’t help the half-smile.

“Of course. Don’t mention it.”

“Aryll is a sweetheart.”

Link glanced to the hallway that hid her bedroom. “She means well. I hope she didn’t come off too strong.”

“No! She’s everything you talked about and more. It took a fair amount of effort to convince her that I didn’t need to take her bed.”

“Well, yeah, you’re taking my bed.”

She sternly met him.

“Certainly not. I can sleep on the couch.”

“Too bad.” Link leaned back and folded his arms behind his head. He shut his eyes with a smile, “Because I’m already asleep.”

He heard her move to a stand and the quiet outrage that came after.

“Link, don’t be immature.”

…

“You’re not asleep!”

…

“I’m warning you. I’ll sleep on the floor if you don’t take your bed!”

That was nonsense.

Suddenly, a hand closed around his arm and tugged him forward. He resisted but he was sitting up now, easily combatting any further tug from her.

Zelda grunted, “I’m going to feel horrible. Do you want me to feel horrible?”

“If you feel horrible and comfortable, then that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“At least we can share it,” Zelda let him go to fall against the chair. “Please, I don’t want to put you out.”

She looked down at him with doe eyes.

Why was he considering it?

“Don’t make it weird. You look like you’re making it weird.” Now she was glowering at him.

Link swallowed, glancing at his bedroom across the apartment. She tore a deep sigh from him, in turn causing a wide grin to grace her lips.

Don’t make it weird.

He wasn’t. He was just… tired. And his bed did sound nice.

There were two pillows on his bed. Zelda shuffled around to the side he usually slept on, so he took the opposite. She sat on the edge, pulling the sheets tucked into the mattress enough to climb into before pausing. It was entirely possible she was reconsidering because of, well, the obvious. Link was sure if he hadn’t just worked for fifteen hours, he’d be doing the same.

Shit, these aren’t even his new sheets.

“And you’re okay with this?” he deadpanned mostly, looking at her from across the bed with crossed arms. Link came up short on if there was another time they’d been dressed so casually with one another. There were more than a few times where Zelda would unintentionally sleep in and he’d catch her rushing around in pajamas. He’d also worn casual clothes every time they would go somewhere that called for it. But nothing like this.

She blinked up at him like waking up from a dream.

“Hm? Oh, um,” a wrinkle formed, “There isn’t anyone that would feel uncomfortable… with me sleeping in the same bed as you, right?”

The gears in his head turned slowly because he was much too preoccupied with the epiphany that he enjoyed her in baggy clothes. Then, let out a short laugh. She seemed embarrassed. He sobered up a bit to pull back the covers.

“No ma’am. I don’t have a girlfriend or anything of the sort,” he smiled more to himself, quickly realizing the lights were still on too. “No, that makeup on my nightstand is Aryll’s. She likes taking pictures in here after school because the lighting is better… or that’s what she says. Good question, though. Very considerate.”

The city lights through his window gave plenty of light for him to see the way she stretched. “Thank you. I’m okay.”

Link nearly fell onto his stomach on the far edge of the bed. Her voice was taunt from her own sleep deprivation and a cacophony of other troubles he opted not to dwell on.

“If at any point you aren’t, feel free to kick me off the bed. I won’t mind.”

Her laughter was light.

He knew roughly how tired he was but there was nothing like his head hitting that pillow. It felt like his body was sinking into the bed and he hoped morning would take its time. Zelda lied on her back, playing with her hair.

“Go to bed, Your Majesty.” The demand was muffled.

“Mm, I don’t think I will.”

Difficult. This woman was difficult. She had to be just as tired, which concerned him.

“Link, can I ask you a question.”

With half-closed eyes, he breathed in and moved to lay on his side to speak more to her than the bed.

“Shoot.”

“Did I make you uncomfortable?”

Uncomfortable? The gears were still slow turning. He didn’t think she _could_ make him feel uncomfortable. If she was capable then sleep probably wouldn’t come as easy at a pillow length’s distance.

“When?” he asked more as a statement than anything. Her fingers stilled on the ends of her hair. Had it always been that long?

She spared a glance.

“Last night.”

Ah, so she wanted to talk about that right now. He rationalized that mere moments before her birthday gala wasn’t the prime time either. Link cringed at the recollection.

“Hm,” he blinked sleep away, “No.”

Zelda looked at him like he said the wrong answer.

“Are you sure?”

He scoffed, “Would you rather me say yes? Because I’ll do it if it makes you go to sleep.”

“No, I just… expected you to… I guess I’m not sure what I expected,” she paused to mull it over. Probably biting her lip.

As was Link fashion, he thumbed through possible solutions for her frustrations. The push back he was met with before the Gala was entirely justified. He had regretted his words long before he said them, even more afterwards. Throughout the event, he was trying to find it within himself for why he did it.

All his energy went into getting those words from her, knowing there were plenty of warnings in her tone. The anger he drew from her fed something he had craved longer than engagement rumors. And even on the verge of flippant delirium, he wasn’t willing to explore what exactly that is.

“Hey,” he started, abandoning his sarcasm altogether. “I’m truly sorry that I offended or hurt you in any way before your opening speech.” Link propped up his elbow to look at her through the dark. Somewhere below them and in the streets, a siren had came and went.

“It was never my intention. I have always wanted to look out for you as both a friend and a bodyguard and because of that I overstepped by a mile,” he told her, frustration towards himself bubbling. “It wasn’t right. I forgot my place.”

“I’m sorry too,” she said, softly. “If I had been more honest with you. Talked to you, then maybe you’d understand.”

Somehow, he doubted that. She didn’t need to know.

Link watched her in the dark. She was so normal now in the way that she was looking at him. Two people from two entirely different worlds. It’s strange how they collided.

“So,” she shifted slightly to her side, “You and your sister aren’t full siblings, right? The two of you look so alike.”

Zelda’s curiosity almost made him forget. The shift in mood was very deliberate yet he still couldn’t deny her.

“We aren’t. I didn’t know I had a sister until,” he mulled it over with the ceiling above, “I think I was 24 at the time… No, yeah, that’s right. Never knew my mom and Dad had always told me her family was good-for-nothings. I got a letter from CPS while I was deployed basically saying that my mother passed away and no one was willing to take in her daughter.”

He’s told this story a thousand times, but her reaction made it feel brand new.

She gaped, “A letter? That was it?”

“I have it in a box somewhere. The envelope was crumpled. Took four days to get somewhere with slate service and another two days because they wouldn’t pick up caller IDs from Arcadia,” Link rolled his eyes. He remembered the anger. It wasn't so uncommon then.

“Anyway, I spoke to her caseworker, rifled through what had happened. If it wasn’t me then it had to be her grandmother… which wouldn’t work out for long since she was ill. If not her, then they were planning on reaching out to Dad and I–I… he was not a good option either. I had five months left on my contract, so I asked to talk to her. She was 11 and the first thing she asked was where I was since it was so loud, and you know what I said?”

“Hm?”

“Hestu’s Land,” he said, grinning at her snort.

“There’s no way she believed you.”

“You’re wrong. She ate it up, which honestly it worked out because even at a good distance away mortars have this eerie whistling sound that she thought was pretty damn close to people on roller coasters. Told her if she could wait a few months, I’d bring her there.”

She sat up a bit. He could tell she wanted to ask something. The fidgeting was a dead giveaway.

“You don’t have to answer,” Zelda more so mumbled. Shifting in the dark. “At what time did Operation Calamity happen?”

A few heartbeats went by. She was nervous; she shouldn’t be.

“Before that. A month, I think.” He knew. “It was for the better. Cut my dad off ‘round that time too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. There’s nothing off limits between us. It was good to have someone to come home to. First time I saw her she asked why I was bald, and we hit it off ever since.”

“That’s beyond kind, Link. Seriously.” She was smiling. He preferred that.

“Mm, yeah, I get that a lot.”

“Oh, please.”

“No, really! They always say, ‘Link, you’re so kind and generous and above all handsome’. And honestly, Zelda, can’t say they’re wrong.”

“You’re so obnoxious,” she snorted. The covers shifted and the pillow from under her head fell onto his face.

Link chuckled and tossed it over to her side of the bed. It landed near the edge and slid to the floor. “I didn’t deserve that.”

“Yes, you do.” A smile was in her voice. In the dark, he saw her silhouette rise slightly to chase after the pillow.

As the urge arose, he indulged in grabbing her middle and pulling her back to the covers. Zelda yelped and pawed at the mattress to pull away from him but he refused just to hear her breathless laughter a little closer. “So, I deserved that, huh?”

“A hundred times yes –”

“I deserved to have my own pillow thrown at me?”

“Absolutely, you’re a fiend.”

Link scoffed, pulling slightly away from her back so she would notice.

“A,” he gawked as she looked over her shoulder, “A _fiend_?”

“Oh yes,” she laughed, her head hit his pillow. “A brute of a man.”

From here, he was able to notice the little details. In their scuffle, his tee shirt had shifted enough to expose her collar bone. The sleeve was so baggy on her frame that it reached past her elbow. Her hair smelled like her perfume from earlier that night. She was fighting him without pulling away, so much different from mere hours ago.

It was easy for him to admit that he preferred her like this: a snorting, laughing mess that fit comfortably in his arms. Any version of her was better than watching her on the verge of a panic attack while knowing he couldn’t fix it for her, though this specific Zelda was among his favorite if not _the_ favorite. If this was a dream, he wondered what he could have done to deserve it.

“I’m obnoxious, a fiend, and a brute,” he said and loosened his grip on her. “That’s unfortunate.”

Zelda didn’t seem to notice the adjustment nor did she move to abandon him immediately. When she sidled deeper into her place next to him – against him – Link felt a surge in his chest. There wasn’t a thought to nudge away or a place to pick apart what he was feeling because she was the thought and the place was here. If he were rational, he would move away. But that was it, right? If he was any type of rational, he wouldn’t have suggested his apartment. Furthermore, he shouldn’t have gave into her demands for his comfort.

It was awful to have built so many walls just for one woman to simply walk around them, but maybe she wouldn’t have been able to if he weren’t so willing to give her an opening.

Her breathing had mellowed out by now. Link shouldn’t ask what he wanted to know. He should let her fall asleep against him and appreciate this little moment that would surely never present itself again. The words were sitting on his tongue and already halfway past his lips before he knew it.

“Are you going to marry him?”

How foreign it was to fear words that came from Zelda’s lips. It was a strange sensation because he knew what real fear felt like. Link could recreate the first time he heard gunshots ringing over his head. Real guns. Nothing movies had prepared him for. The sound had reverberated in his chest with the sudden understanding that it came from a weapon that could kill him; from a person that wanted to kill him.

And yet here he was feeling that same fear because of a woman. A woman who wasn’t strong enough to open a standard peanut butter jar, no less.

“Yes,” she said as quiet as the question asked. “I-I’ve already given my word, Link. I can’t just go back on it.”

All he could do was frown.

“You don’t want to, though.”

Zelda opened her mouth to speak but stopped herself. She was fidgeting with his empty hand, curling his relaxed fingers into a fist and spread them flush with the sheet below them.

“Well,” she said with renewed confidence, “Even if I wake up wanting to remain queen, which we haven’t quite decided yet in case you’ve forgotten, I can always make him a prince-consort. He doesn’t necessarily need to be a king, but I doubt Facad would be satisfied with it.”

She spoke her thoughts aloud, partly into the pillow and partly to him. “I’m sure it will disappoint a good number of people who care more about traditions than who my companion is.”

Link pulled her slightly closer as she talked about nothing that would quell the anxiety in his stomach. Between the wedding and the coronation, this Facad White would haunt Link to upwards of a year with how tumultuous traditions could be. He would have to be there for all of it. He would have to watch them marry and Zelda would undergo publicity stunts to convince the public that their love was real.

He’d have a front row seat to it all.

He watched her carefully, only in view of her cheekbone and the span of her lashes.

“A lot will change.”

“Link,” Zelda suddenly said in a different tone. It wavered. “I know this isn’t… what you expected. Two people are harder to look after than one, so I would understand if you wanted to look elsewhere.”

He wanted to ignore that stammer in her words and the increased grip on his hand. He wanted to ignore the fact that she was trying to give him an out.

“Just say the word and I’ll do everything within my power to get you in the door wherever you want to be. You don’t have to be stuck with me forever. I swear that I write the best recommendation letters.”

She was laughing in the end, but it wasn’t honest. With her facing away from him, he didn’t have to lie by smiling. Instead, he stared holes into the wall and concluded.

“Okay. I’ll think about it.”

That had cut her off, thickening the silence that was so ugly without her. Had he upset her? He hated that he liked the idea.

Her soft fingers traced his own as if taking notes on how her hand barely spanned the width of his palm. Never quite embracing his hand, almost threading their fingers before pulling away. Torturing him.

Gently, he pulled back his hand until it touched the bunched-up fabric of his shirt on her body. He knew this shirt well; it was old and worn countless times. That warmth could make him fall asleep right then and there. He didn’t, anyway, sleeping meant missing out on this view.

The logo on the front was so faded along with the memory of where he had gotten it from. When she leaves and that shirt never touches her again, Link knew everything he remembers about it will just be of her and her perfume.

Zelda didn’t move to stop him when he rested his hand on her stomach, splaying his fingers. Her warmth was the kind the makes one greedy for more, but he wasn’t made to take. This was enough for him; even if it wasn’t, he would make it enough.

Then, her hand found his wrist. Almost unnoticeably, she pressed herself into him. The inside of his cheek wedged painfully between his teeth, a fruitless effort when she surely noticed he had stopped breathing. When she did it again, his grip on her involuntary tightened. The shirt now balled into his hand.

He didn’t miss her exhale. Her breathing had shortened.

Link pressed his nose into her hair as he felt for the shirt’s hem. It didn’t take long and when he traced the bare skin underneath, she shivered. She was, predictably, soft under his fingers. Warmer he was now, feeling up past her belly button and lingering on her middle.

It was horrible that she wasn’t wearing a bra, to have him realize in this way how much she trusted him. He stalled here, content to pretend that he had fallen asleep and this was innocent unconsciousness guiding him.

But, no. The hand on his wrist coaxed him further. Link swallowed and caved under her temptation. He skimmed over her the slope of her breast, listening to her choke on air once his palm closed around her nipple.

“Zelda,” he said as if her name was a gasp of air. “Zelda, I don’t live alone.”

She nodded mutely.

Questions swirled in a constant circle. He should be striving to answer them, but his mind made no attempt.

The nub hardened and he clung onto the fact that it was because of him alone. Zelda made a noise and brought her other hand to the pillow. Her soft flesh molded perfectly into his palm as he gently kneaded. It was cruel how she could make him so hungry for something he was once so content without. His lips brushed the exposed skin between her neck and her shoulder. It was a flimsy way to temper himself before he did anything rash.

That only led to chaste kisses being pressed to her throat and then:

“ _Link_ \--”

Zelda had turned her head towards him and his lips found hers to silence his name. In a way, he was reliving the night before, although it hadn’t had the charge this kiss did. Then again, they were both in his bed, in his clothes, and the recollection sent him spiraling all over again. She made a strangled noise into his mouth and he didn’t bother to ask why.

He was taking tonight, moving only to lower her chin to give him better access. She was just as sweet as he remembered. The shirt was bunched up to her neck by now. It allowed him to graze over her other breast before snaking downward.

When he pulled away to pepper her shoulder, she gasped for breath.

Anything Link said felt possessed. Rough and needing.

“Do you think of me?”

The pajama pants weren’t made for her hips, so he had no problem edging them off.

“I do.”

To his ears, she sounded equally as needing and that alone was enough to spur him on. He thumbed her hip bone, then her thigh. “Like this?”

Up until now, he was adept at burying any attraction he had for Zelda. It had been unimportant to fulfilling his job and he had never even ventured to wonder if there could be something between them. She far exceeded conventional standards and anyone with eyes could see that. But Link, like most people, slipped up in his own company when sleep didn’t come easy. He’d tried to think of other women just to fall back to someone with her eyes and her voice in his ears.

To know that she did the same, well, his thumb indented the skin of her thigh.

She was nodding, he hadn’t even noticed. A flush spread to her ears.

Link took his time to take her in fully. Lifting his head to catch a glimpse of her closed eyes and parted, swollen lips. She was clutching the pillow over her head. Waiting for him, anticipating him.

 _I did that_ , he thought to himself. _I barely even touched her_.

Green eyes cracked open, meeting his gaze and the blush spread.

“Are you going to make me say it?” she asked in a whisper.

“You can,” Link whispered back, moving back to the pillow and closer to her ear. There was a hint of a smile present. “I would like it.”

His hand found the inside of her thigh. She responded by trying to move her legs apart, which he helped by raising the first on top of his own. It wasn’t much, but it gave him the access he wanted.

“I think about you…” Zelda stopped to start again, seeming to mull over how much she would divulge. “I think about you in my bed.”

His laugh came out as hot air on her ear. She gasped when he touched the apex on her leg, close enough to cup her heat. Link watched her for any sign of discomfort and when there was none, he found reprieve on her shoulder. “That’s all?”

He was slow to touch her, applying light pressure to where she needed him and never quite exploring her fully. His own face flushed at how wet she was. “Never like this?”

“ _Ah_ , I-I have.”

Zelda pressed her face into the pillow when he began drawing circles. Her body arched into him and he had to bite her shoulder from the friction. Any motive to taunt her further disappeared. Her scent was intoxicating. He slid two fingers into her. She turned her head and with knitted eyebrows. His name never sounded so pretty.

He kissed her. He kissed her as if he were already familiar with the shape of her lips and the taste of her moans because he was a fool to expect anything else after tonight. After all, despite her clinging, Zelda would never be his. Through half-lidded eyes, Link almost convinced himself that it was okay to pretend that she hadn’t had another man’s ring around her finger tonight.

Because Zelda was in Link’s arms. Right now, there was no one else. She was searching for _his_ kiss, shivering under _his_ touch, and whispering _his_ name as if he were something worth praying to.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t get himself drunk enough off her. Somewhere on his floor was a dress and in its pockets was a promise she made. And she said it herself, it was her word that she couldn’t take back. Zelda wasn’t rash.

His right hand, that had been wedged between them, readjusted under her to close over her mouth just as he curled his fingers. Zelda let out a strangled whine, a noise muffled by both of their efforts. Her body tensed against his, just short of ascension. He gradually withdrew from her with a fair amount of protesting on her part.

Link had his thumbs hooked in the waistband of his pants when she bolted upward with wide eyes. He froze.

“Is this…” he tried, coming to the realization that she may not be comfortable with the direction this was going in. “Is this okay?”

Her gaze traced down to where his shirt had ridden up, then lingered on the noticeable rise in his pants.

“Yeah,” she responded with a numb nod, “Yes, I… I thought you were leaving is all.”

Leaving? Link couldn’t help the concern on his face. She was bothered, sobering up enough to fall back beside him with one more long look at him. He wondered what could possibly possess her to think that he would up and leave.

As quietly as he could, he shucked the pajama pants from his legs. Zelda stiffened at his touch on her hip but melted when he pulled her to his chest again. Link suspected this would be an awkward position with anyone else, but her weight felt natural and she sought him as much as he sought her. His chest tightened at the sensation of her closing in on his arm.

Even now, did she feel safe with him?

The moment lasted; he was in awe at her heartbeat. The thrumming was hard and quick.

“Do you want me?” Link asked, point blank and more awake than he’s felt in a week. “If not, I won’t judge you.”

His heart pounded in his ears. There was a pause that made him wonder if she had finished and was sound asleep until:

“Will you judge me if I do?”

She was pliant in his embrace but wasn’t looking at him. Blue shadows only illuminated her shape. Everything she did was effortless, her beauty most of all. How many of his walls has she simply waltzed around within the last hour? Hundreds, surely, because he had long since given up building them.

For the first time in a long time, Link didn’t know the answer to Zelda’s question.

Link traced his thumb from her elbow, under the shirt sleeve and back. It was a crime how natural this felt.

“I don’t want you to regret,” he finally said, speaking slowly to figure it out himself. “You hold too much inside, Zelda, and I care about you too much to be a catalyst that holds you back in the future.”

That was when she met him. Even in the dimness, her brow was knitted and she was soft. Link tried to seem indifferent, as if his need for her wasn’t blatant between them. He had always been confident in reading people. So much was found in the little things: habits, gestures, nervous ticks. Naturally, spending years around someone fined tuned the talent further. It helped that she wore her heart on her sleeve.

Now, it was more like a curse. He would’ve been satisfied if he hadn’t seen that sadness. Had he misconstrued it for building regret, then it would make a world’s difference.

Of course, she couldn’t leave him in blissful ignorance. Her honesty clear and unyielding, no matter her intentions. Zelda was doing that thing she does when she’s sad to leave a place. Tracing landscape like it was the last time she’ll see it. He felt pinned down and meeting her gaze, he silently asked if she figured him out yet.

There was nothing to smile about. He did anyway.

“I kissed you too,” he whispered. “You can be sorry about it but I’m sure not.”

When she brought a hand to his face and pulled him forward, he hardly noticed. She drank his smile. Indulging came easy with closed eyes as her curves moved under his fingertips. Zelda shifted back, regaining their former proximity – close enough for him to chase the moan on her lips once he gripped her thigh.

Arousal wasn’t difficult to reclaim under her writhing hips. He lifted her further up the pillow, marveling at her aching back. Their legs tangled and Link lost himself in her.

An arm was underneath her again, gripping the sheet below them. Air fluttered in her chest. The kiss broke, he didn’t know when. The opposite arm was holding onto her as if she’d be stolen away; her hip, her thigh, wrapped around her waist. Initially, he wanted to wait for her to move first. In some sense, he did. A whisper or a tremor or _something she did_ , sent him too far gone.

Zelda was tense, trembling, and melting all at once. Open eyes watched hers close, long lashes brushing his cheek. The way that shirt collected near her neck was beautiful. Her legs twitched around his own, causing his head to blur the line of where his limbs began and hers ended. The airy sounds she tried to stifle each time he rocked into her sunk him ever deeper into the abyss.

She was careful. Drowning her noise into the pillow, sometimes opting for her hand. But then she would arch too far away, and Link would pull her flush against him. The whine that tore from her was nearly lewd. They shared the same breath until she would find the stubble of his cheek and drag him down for a messy kiss

He wondered what freckles he was missing in the dark. The little quirks of her body that he didn’t have time to search for. Parts of herself that clothes hid, he wanted to know. Zelda’s arm under her gripped their pillow with a vice. The other reached and reached some more. Under his shirt, trembling to feel the lines of his stomach flexing.

Then, she made a choking sound. Louder, more distinct. The hand shot from his stomach to his fist balled up in the sheet. One of the corners of the fitted sheet popped off under the strain.

“ _Please_ ,” Zelda breathed, “I… _gods_ , Link.”

He couldn’t help panting into her ear. She was clenching around him, so he released the sheet in turn to gently cover her mouth. Once his grip returned to her waist, she squeezed her eyes shut and clamped her hand over his. Again, he pulled her flush to his chest. Roughly thrusting upward as he did.

Zelda’s moan was caught in her throat, urging him to increase the pressure over her mouth. The noises she made were a song he wanted to hear louder. He stilled his motions and held her as she shook through her climax. Her chest heaved. Link buried his face into her hair again, indulging in her scent and to focus on lasting just a little longer.

Please just a little longer.

When she slowed to a still, he peeled his hand away from her. Her breathes were heavy and she gasped at his movements. Sweat ran down his neck as he thickly apologized. Blank green eyes stared at the ceiling, then drew to his. Her face was flush and hot.

Link dipped to ardently kiss her cheek. The tips of her ears reddened. She watched his lips as he guided her into slow kisses, then dipped down to find the spot on her neck that made her breath hitch. He moved experimentally, receiving a few blissful sighs.

Before a rhythm was developed, Link sat up. Somewhat dazed from an idea and already ducking under one of her legs.

Her question was hoarse, “What are you doing?”

He wordlessly pushed the covers to the foot of the bed and unhooked her sweatpants from her left foot.

“Sorry,” he whispered, gently parting her knees once more. Then, he pulled his shirt over his head. “I wanted to see your face better.”

The stark blush that exploded on her cheeks made it all worth it.

She yelped as he wrapped his arms around her thighs to drag her downwards, it preoccupied her shyness enough to pepper kisses on her face. The involuntary smile was worth it too. Zelda couldn’t help laughing.

Link let her run her hands up his arms. He bent down slightly for them to run along his shoulders. Not satiated enough, his hands rested on either side of her head as she ran her fingers through his hair. Loosened strands spilled over his forehead. The way her nails grazed his scalp made him shut his eyes and he fought the need to fall into the crook of her neck.

Her palms cupped his cheeks. Mere inches away, he witnessed her. Tracing the loose strands of her mussed hair and how they lit up in the dim light. She seemed to the same with him, brushing his hair back with her hand only for it to fall once more. Link’s lips parted for words. None came out. What was he supposed to say?

She was beautiful?

He could tell her that any other day and it’d still be true.

Zelda ran her tongue over her bottom lip, glancing between their bodies and he blinked awake. She pulled him to her. A chaste press of her lips to tempt him into coaxing for more. Gentle caresses over his skin turned more needy. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat when she reached to have her own taste. Her teeth grazed underneath his jaw just in time for her to hook a leg around his waist.

When he ground against her heat, her head lulled back to the sheets with a stuttering sigh. Half-lidded eyes watched him hoist her leg from his waist to his shoulder. She was either mouthing something or he was too absorbed to hear.

Those eyes widened, however, when he slowly pushed in. Brows knitted from feeling and mouth agape.

“ _A-ah--!_ ”

A newer sound. One he wanted to hear again. Link withdrew and pressed a kiss to her inside thigh, taking his time before coming back to her body. Her fingers twitched against pillows above. He dipped to nip at her breast and watch how he disappeared inside of her. The sight made him groan into her throat, gripping just above her hipbone.

She gasped, toeing the line of volume they nonverbally drew.

Not that air came easy prior, but this clear view made him shiver. Link pulled up, dragging along her grip that was intertwined with blond hair at the nape of his neck. Maybe it was rush of adrenaline or the way Zelda mouthed his name as she gazed up at him that made Link snap his hips upwards.

The sharp slap of skin on skin made them both freeze and dart to the door.

It was still closed. Unlocked because Link hadn’t had the gall to predict what would transpire.

Two pair of wide eyes traded each other and the door several times before Zelda snorted.

“What in the world are you laughing at?” His own grin betrayed him.

“I,” she attempted, cracking up whatever she was about to say. “I feel like a teenager trying not to get caught.”

“You’re a weird one alright.”

Zelda blinked up at him with remnant laughter.

“Yes, but you like me anyway.”

The air of humor fizzled. Her smile dying enough to rest relaxed. Link tilted his head, minutely searching her before leaving a small bite on her thigh.

He was just above a whisper, “I do.”

The smile died. Her mind was turning over behind her eyes, much too overactive for the state he wanted her in. So, he moved.

Words in his thoughts blanked out until it was all a strange mixture of _her_ again. It was a struggle to withhold force from his thrusts. Her mouth had fallen open again, hands finding him again and clinging to him again as if she needed him.

Right now, she needed him. Deluded into needing him, but it was all the same.

Need. That time in the parking lot. Shooting eyes of jade fire at him.

Link dove for her lips, wanting more to claim than kiss. His head was of fog. Each time he saw her, interacted with her, it might as well be a small high of what she is. This was an overdose in the process.

“Link,” she said his name differently when they parted. Urgent. He nibbled her ear. “Link, tell me you won’t leave me.”

The bedframe protested underneath them. He leaned up to her eyelevel, parting her legs just that bit more to make her eyes glaze over. The moan that reached him was sinful.

“What?” he said more than asked, much too involved in the throes of her body.

Then he saw her expression, still lustful but that distinct worry of before tracing through. He hated it.

“Will you leave me?”

The question made him move to shake his head in disbelief, finding difficulty to match coital rhythm with rational thinking. His brow pinched.

“Zelda….”

She bit her lip. The leg that wasn’t on his shoulder pitched upward to the small of his back. It pressured him to move with her need and he wasn’t in the position to deny her.

“I would never,” he bit back a noise coming from the back of his throat and met her unwavering. “I would never leave you alone.”

Whatever was there in her face relented, no matter how marginally. She came to terms with it, letting her nails dig into the flesh of his back. Pleasure showed clear on her face as he watched her. His nose against her nose. Then pressed forehead to forehead. Pants of hot air washed over him and he caught the little words.

A cacophony of affirmatives: yes, please, goddesses, faster.

“ _Fuck_ , Zelda,” he could only say. Forceful, short, a response to her heel digging into his back. She wanted him so badly. She needed him. Her scent all-consuming. Primitive thoughts that would never normal prick his mind flew around at full force. If he made her feel ecstasy, an inking of what she did to him, she wouldn’t stray from him. Zelda would figure out that all she needed was him all this time. They would be able to live out this moment more than once.

Every other word was his name. Sweet, sharp whispers touching him. Begging. He’d give it to her.

The heel on his back shook first.

“ _Link, please I-I-_ ”

He smothered her cries and drank her in as her body quivered around him. Callous fingers roughly gripping her hip and defying her anchor on him. Link’s hips snapped into her twice, three times before he stiffened. He swiftly followed her undoing.

Her body lurched as he ducked to bite a clothed shoulder. He couldn’t help shaping her name. She was everything wrong and right in that moment. Zelda held a vice around him and he around her, both using the other for release until their bodies ceased shaking.

Then, they could only breathe. Link came to clarity first, shifting despite her exhausted protests. He obliged, if not for a couple minutes longer to share her warmth.

They say that all things that go up must come down.

Down came in the form of Link’s retrieval of a towel which he used to wipe the mess he had made between her legs as well as the sweat on their skin. The next venture was clothes. His were skewed every which way and hers were easier to find. Zelda’s thighs trembled and he didn’t bother her into standing, which worked perfectly since she was halfway asleep by the time her laid an extra blanket underneath them.

They never talk about how down can sink lower.

He had pulled her to his chest and didn’t miss the continuous grip of her hand against his shirt. The sniffles that followed were light, but clear. Link stayed like that and pretended to sleep until she fell limp and silent other than soft breathing.

Slowly, he unfurled her from him and padded across the carpet and through the bathroom door. It shut almost soundlessly behind him. The light about the sink clicked on.

Link was nearly sober now. He rubbed his eyes and placed his hands fully on the counter. It took several tries to eliminate the burning in his throat to look up. His jaw set.

The reflection of red rimmed eyes stared back at him.

One word graced his mind, clear as the daylight streaming into his window. He wouldn’t speak it at the risk of waking up the woman in his bed.

 _Fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe they had to go ahead and make it weird.
> 
> I can't tell if I'm repeating a couple lines from WIPs or previous stories people might have read, so... if anything sounds familiar, my subconscious liked it so much to use it twice.
> 
> Let me know what you think! A big part of the chapter in particular was first written almost six months ago because I'm insane and write things way beforehand. The sex portion is very ew, I know, but I think it's progress? In my overall sex-writing-skills? I can't put it on my LinkedIn skills, so it doesn't rlly matter in the end.


End file.
